Andrey Platonov was right in the middle of revolution. He was one of those who made it happen. And he wrote about what he knew and what he saw. He did not make it big but he was very good.

Words fail me in praising this. Simply put, it is one of the most over-looked, classic texts of the 20th C. Platonov writes in a style that combines a dreamy, surreal sensibility of the world with a hard, trenchant, unflinching look at the characters who inhabit it. My copy of this is dog-eared, full of notes and underlines- aspiring writers take note- Platonov is a writer who is to be studied, as much for his subtlety and lyrical elegance as his tough-skinned presentation of ruined lives; people trying to craft some order and peace from a world, and largely doomed to fail.

I'm being a bit too romantic, too hyperbolic. I probably shouldn't have attempted this. But I want to put my two cents in as concerns this work, because I love it. It is a marvelous book.

This is one of those novels you will return to, repeatedly, like a cure. I can't think of any other work that so profoundly illuminates man's alienation- from self, from others, from nature, from meaning. Every thinking, waking person should own this.

In "Sculpting in Time" Tarkovsky says: "The literary element in a film is *smelted*; it ceases to be literature once the film has been made." Reading his screenplays, one has the sense of looking at a blueprint or a musical score. The two strongest elements of Tarkovsky's artistry--the extraordinary visuals, and the highly original conception of time--are necessarily missing.

So what is the value of this collection? For one thing, it includes the scripts of several unrealized projects, which allow you to imagine what these films might have looked like, or just to regret that they were never made. Similarly, you'll also find ideas and scenes that didn't make it into the finished films, or were altered from their original conception. The book also, in an indirect way, points out the relentlessly visual and indiosyncratic nature of AT's work. For example, reading the script of "Stalker", perhaps AT's most mesmerizing film, I thought that it could easily have been made into an episode of "Twilight Zone" by a lesser director. In other words, the plot is not the point; what makes the film a masterpiece lies beyond words and storylines. I suppose the same could be said for any great director, but with Tarkovsky I feel this even more strongly. Finally, the book also includes a fair amount of analysis and commentary. One serious omission: "Andrei Rublev" is not included, due to its length.

For these reasons, I recommend this book not to Tarkovsky neophytes, but to those who already know his films. The genius is up there on the screen; this book contains the sketches, jottings and blueprints that helped to put it there.

Just saw The Stalker last night. Possibly the best movie I've seen in my life. Tarkovsky is a master of magic/symbolism/the human condition. No wonder he was Bergman's favourite. I really look forward to reading this book.

Unanimously hailed by the intellectual crowd as the greatest poet of modern cinema Tarkovsky's Collected Screenplays provides a blueprint into the mind of this genius. The density of his films typically filled with a cannon of symbolism and metaphors are revealed to us in a new light through his screenplays by lucid and coherent writing providing yet a distinctly new approach in understanding and appreciating his deeply felt themes on life. Without the element of time so inherent in film, the ability to rest on a thought or a remark by this incredible film-maker is what makes reading this book such a pleasure. In addition to this book I would recommend Sculpting in Time.

Andrei Codrescu manages to say so much,yet keeps the book moving quickly. The anecdotes and observations, obviously personal to Codrescu, each hold some universal truth. His style is a strong complement to our ever shortening attention spans. Briskly paced, sharp and funny; once you begin reading, you will find the book difficult to put down.

Andrei Codrescu, a Romanian immigrant and English professor, writes essays for National Public Radio. His essays demonstrate his appreciation of European and American culture.

Mr. Codrescu defines zombification as indifference caused by overexposure to suffering. Our television sets are portals that harden our hearts and deaden our nerves to the plight of the poor, the persecuted, and the dying. We relate to other people as shadowy images rather than as real people. Andrei Codrescu's observations are serious, but he discusses them in an entertaining manner.

Examples of Mr. Codrescu's observations include: (after witnessing the 1967 Detroit riots) "Gangs have stepped into the vacuum left by suppression of radical politics."; (to the President) "Be sure to carry a tool kit with you at all times. In the next years everything is going to fall apart."; and (cynical people) "have learned to navigate by their stomachs: that's one infallible compass."

Professor Codrescu's essays are well-crafted, entertaining, and merit rereading for their societal insight.

Andrei Codrescu writes essays for National Public Radio. He emigrated to the United States from Communist Romania. His appreciation of European and American culture is evident in his writings.

Mr. Codrescu defines zombification as indifference to suffering caused by overexposure to the media. Our television sets are portals that harden our hearts and deaden our nerves to the plight of the poor, the persecuted, and the dying. We relate to other people as shadowy images rather than as real people. Andrei Codrescu's message is serious, but he discusses these issues in an entertaining manner.

Examples of Mr. Codrescu's essays include 'Escape from Politics' ("the Republican National Convention. It's the kingdom of the Overambitious."); 'Riots' (after witnessing the 1967 Detroit riots "Gangs have stepped into the vacuum left by suppression of radical politics."); 'Advice to the New Chief: Inauguration Day, 1993' ("Be sure to carry a tool kit with you at all times. In the next years everything is going to fall apart."); and 'Soviet Maps: Reality and Its Next of Kin' (Repressed people "have learned to navigate by their stomachs: that's one infallible compass.")

Andrei Codrescu's essays are well-crafted and entertaining. One rereads them for their societal insight. Mr. Codrescu observes much, says much, and leaves additional clues for the reader.

The RED ARMY is a good hastely review of the RCW from the Red Army view. I recommend it to all. However, some of the information is incorrect and OOB chart are wrong. The book is basically an extremely edited version of the Soviet encyclopedia "Civil War and Military Intervention in the SSSR". Many of the entries in Red Army are from the encyc. word for word and sometimes the best info is left out or conclusions incorrect. Granted the Osprey format does not have a lot of room for text. Its companion the White Army is more detailed where the Red Army is terrible general in detail. If you could see the source for the info you would understand what has been left out. I liked the book, but was left with more questions than when I started.

This is a rather nice volume (typical of most Osprey's Men-at-Arms series) that has one thing that stands out: the wonderfull colour plated illustrated by Russian artist Andrei Karachtchouk.The figures in his paintings---be they Russian Volunteer Officers, Former-Czarist guards, Ukranian nationalists, Islamic Basmachi rebels---are all full of character! This book will no doubt serve as a uniform guide to many modellers and wargamers out there!
The book itself is a rather "dry" read, compromising mainly of army lists for the different White Armies in the different fronts of the war in Russia; but nevertheless, the photographs and colour plates accompanying the text is outstanding!
Highly recommended for the modeller and wargamer, although others should look for a more detailed "in depth" book on the campaigns and overall history of the Russian Civil War.

The art in this ospery edition is really quite good. There is a great amount of attention paied to uniform details. The birsk 48 page read provided some useful insight into the structure of the White Army of the Russian Civil War such as there close collaboration with Kuban and Don Cossacks also the multi-layered nature of the anti-Bolshevik movement as a whole from the right wing monarchists to the arachist partisans that fought red and white. i really loved the plates on the black uniformed officers units. Buy it!!!

Be prepared that this tome has a lot of unnecessary intellectualizing (I did not get why the author used some Austrian references when, let's face facts, Austria have not been a world power in soccer since the '20s and '30s. The footnotes alone are a book in itself.

Despite this academic approach this book is beyond brilliant in its analysis of North American sports--yes, it's not just about soccer but places soccer in the context of how it has struggled to establish itself at the pro level in North America and explains why.

For those of us who love all four major sports . . . and soccer, it is an eye-opener to learn about how soccer was a fairly established sport in America but blew its advantage just as baseball and college football took over.

A definite great read but could have used a better editor to slash and burn much of the lengthy overworking of some points.

I enjoyed this book a great deal. It is about much more than soccer, although soccer does take center stage,of course! Anyone at all interested in soccer(as in watching and being a fan, not just playing) should read it. The book is also about the relationship between modern sports and society, and most importantly, how and why the United States is both different and similar to other modern nations regarding its sports culture, or "sports space" as the authors phrase it. Much of this argument is presented in the first chapter, which some might find intimidating due to the heavy amount of references to traditional academic literature. But those who stick with it will be rewarded with the author's incisive analysis to the subject matter, and the book does become an easier read along the way. The second chapter provides a good historical analysis of American sports space overall(e.g., key developments in the history of baseball, basketball,etc.), including the reasons for soccer's perceived absense from the scene. Soccer fans will enjoy the third chapter, where the authors present the history of soccer in the U.S., which they continue to analyze in Chapter 5. Throughout the book is an important discussion of the development of the modern American sports culture, providing the context for understanding how soccer does and does not fit into that space.

Overall, this is a book well worth reading for anyone interested in American culture in general, or for those into the American sports scene in particular -- soccer fans, of course, will love it. As a fan of women's sports, I appreciated the authors' portrayal and analysis of women's soccer, most notably the 1999 Women's World Cup, though I disagree with their view of the "marginalization" of women's sports in general, women's basketball in particular. And, I wish that the authors would have taken the time to devote a chapter to the 1999 Women's World Cup -- HELD IN THE U.S. -- in the same way that they did for the men's World Cups of '94 and '98. In general, however, I felt this was an excellent book, deserving of 5 stars.

For those of you who always wondered why soccer never established itself as one of the dominant sports in America,this is your explanation.

This is an excellent book for soccer fans, sports fans in general, and even social scientists (but you don't have to be a political sociologist to get tremendous insight out of this book).

There are chapters on:

Sports as Culture in Industrial Societies

The concept of "sport space" and how both baseball and football have made it very difficult for soccer to becomone one of the "big 3" sports.

A tantalizing set of missed opportunities in the 1920s when soccer could have established a much stronger presence. Not to mention the destructive role that college soccer, and particularly the NCAA has had from the beginning on the development of soccer.

The modification of American "sport space" in the 2nd half of the 20th century when pro football displaced college football as the dominant form of that sport, as well as the development of the NBA and the spread of the NHL. All of these inhibited development of soccer in that era.

The ambiguous role of the NASL and its positive and negative impact on MLS.

The impact of the 1994 World Cup; and

The coverage of the 1998 World Cup by the American media.

The authors examine the American sporting structural foundations that have inhibited soccer from taking its place as a dominant pastime -- such as baseball or American football. But rather than asserting that these dominant positions of team sports "invented here" will remain for the forseeable future -- at soccer's expense -- the authors are wise to mention such factors as globalization and and latino influence in the US that may make the 21st century a more vibrant "sport space" for soccer than was the 20th.

In short, this is an exceptional piece of sports analysis that all serious soccer fans should devour.

I cannot subscribe to the notion that this is one of the best novels of the 20th century. Without the 62 pages of notes, it would be at best baffling, at worst incomprehensible to anyone not well-versed in Russian history and literature. The plot is wildly convoluted, often farcical. The prose occasionally soars, then veers off into baroque excess, then falls flat on its face.
The translators tackled a daunting task rendering puns, word play and obscure allusions into intelligible English while tracking down all the factual information necessary to an understanding of the novel.

Paging back and forth constantly between the text, the notes, and the city map of Petersburg, I nevertheless gained a vivid impression of the political and social ferment in Petersburg at the time of the 1905 Revolution. There are some familiar archetypes: the bureaucratic despot of a father and the outwardly pliant, secretly rebellious, neurasthenic son; the bored society matron who seeks excitement in the company of anarchists; the confused "upstart intellectual" nurtured on Marx and Nietzsche, yearning to align himself with some "great cause". (Interestingly, the revolutionaries and potential terrorists in this setting are often the sons of priests - another familiar pattern).

Under the weight of current events, I welcome any device that offers a glimpse into the minds of terrorists, apostate religious leaders, fanatic cult followers and manipulators of public opinion ( the way DeLillo's Mao II does in a different context). In this respect, "Petersburg" provides some valuable insights.

Andrei Bely's "Petersburg" is rightly praised as a masterpiece. Knowing Bely's symbolist background, I had exepected the shimmering interlacing of symbols. Yet, while reading the book, I was surprised by the amount of historical and personal desire (and their intertwining) and the masterful way in which it was rendered. Linguistic experiments, grotesque, time-and-space shifts, intertextuality, metatextuality... and, yet, a fully comprehensible narrative! This novel is a true modernist diamond. The book questions what we usually perceive as the predominance of Anglomodernism - yes, the Russians were writing great things after Dostoevsky, too!

Marvelous imagery, style, and humour..Bely's art transmutes an (intentionally) simple and rather banal story into flashing gold.

I also think that this book is too full of academic theory and techniques, and this may be the reason it comes off as so cynical. It works best in providing factual background that would be difficult to find otherwise. But when the book shades into critique, the tone becomes dry and pre-occupied, if not positively dispiriting - particularly when the co-authors subject Tarkovsky to their brand of Freudian analysis. The result is a disjointed collection of facts and vexing speculations, which on balance does a disservice to the poetry of the films. I personally much prefer Maya Turovskaya's book, which doesn't have the encyclopedic range of facts one finds in "Fugue" (a friend of mine described "Fugue's" method as "trainspotting") but is a far more inspired and illuminating combination of intelligent insight and love of its subject.

Johnson's and Petrie's work is an absolute essential resource for any student of film and any fan of Tarkovsky's wonderful work. When I bought the book, I was hoping that it would help me better understand the Russian context of Tarkovsky films and to help make some of the "murkier" parts of the films a little more lucid. The work does all this and more. This book offers a great deal of background on Tarkovsky's life, the Soviet film industry in which he worked, the people he worked with, and the cinematic style that made Tarkovsky's works so memorable. This is an absolute treasure of a book. Ignore those people who complain about the poor analysis of the films; they're wrong or stupid or both. The book's main focus is to help make Tarkovsky's work easier to understand and to provide background on Tarkovsky himself.

The first chapter's title is "A Martyred Artist?" and the question mark hints that some cherished preconceptions are about to be overturned. Tarkovsky seems to have enjoyed thinking of himself as a martyr, and the image has been enthusiastically endorsed by those in the West who believe in Hollywood freedom and Moscow manipulation - four legs good, two legs bad. Johnson and Petrie provide a perspective without slipping into that Charybdis of revisionist critics, the Dreaded Debunker Mode. The director emerges (from extensive interviews with a commendably large number of his collaborators) as a deeply dedicated, troubled artist, charming, impossibly perfectionist, sometimes childishly arbitrary and spiteful, hell to get along with but definitely worth getting to know. After some useful background information on the various hoops to be jumped through in the Soviet film industry and on Tarkovsky's own methods, there are individual critical chapters on all the major works after Ivan's Childhood, and the information they offer is often invaluable for a proper appreciation of the films. Particularly useful is the chapter on the outstanding masterpiece Andrei Rublev, which fills in some of the historical detail behind Tarkovsky's elliptical storyline. At the end are detailed plot summaries, running times and notes on different versions (interestingly, films like Solaris, released intact in the USSR, were horrendously hacked about in the "free" West); and four chapters covering matters of style which are perhaps the least substantial parts of this very satisfying book. The authors are remarkably fair to the Soviet film industry, presenting its bureaucratic meddlers' committees as not so very different from a Western studio or executive producer, and certainly not as monolithically philistine as we've often been led to believe. Tarkovsky was allowed virtually to make Stalker twice over when the original version didn't satisfy him - something Stanley Kubrick might possibly have finagled for himself, but it's hard to imagine anyone else in the West being permitted to do anything of the sort. Quite apart from its very fine critical comment, this book is a much-needed corrective to those myths about the director which have distracted too much attention away from the films themselves - attention which, as the book also shows, they ruthlessly demand and richly deserve.

Makine is a Russian-born author, who sought asylum in France at the age of 30. He is the first novelist to have received France's prestigious Prix Medices and Prix Goncouert for the same book. His perfect mastery of the French language is rooted on lessons received from his grandmother, and when presenting his writngs to the editors in France he had to pretend they were translations from Russian.

The coming of age for three boys in a remote village in Siberia is the main event around which this novel is structured. The trio, handsome Alyosha (the narrator), lamed Utkin, and strong minded Samurai, are all products of a secluded, narrow minded environment, where the only future perspectives are to work in the logging industry, the gold mines, or as a guard at a nearby gulag. In this world of no changes, in a land where romantic love had no place, of long winters, of boredom and lack of passions, the coming of a series of Belmondo movies will fuel their imagination and search for the unknown. The boys become seduced, fascinated by everything these films represent, the Western world and culture, freedom, love for the sake of love, and the beautiful sexy women. The effect is so strong that each one of the boys will eventually live out their own Belmondian fantasy. Uktkin as a writer, Samurai as a guerilla fighter, and the writer in the film industry.

Skilfully constructed and elegantly written, flamboyant style, sophisticated prose, sometimes overly elaborated. The reader will sometimes feel intoxicated with the language; Makine's descriptions of Siberian winters are at the same time exceedingly touching and repetitive. With a sexual overture, Andrei Makine carries his novel with a passionate prose, dreamy eroticism and powerful images.

This novel carries a universal theme in a provincial setting. In its deep psychological context, there is also the sociological aspect. The fascination "development" will play over "backwards" societies, the migration from the later to the first, and the emotional consequences upon those who dare face the change.

Russian-born novelist Andrei Makine's romantic and Proustian autobiographical first novel, Dreams of My Russian Summers, was quite appropriately written in French because its subject was largely the centuries-old love affair that Russians have had with French culture in all its forms. Set mostly in a grim, Stalinist Siberia, it charted a boy's intoxication with his grandmother's lustrous memories of turn-of-the-century Paris. That inheritance of lost treasures eventually caused him deep conflict, but Makine resolved it by becoming a writer.

And what a writer, even in translation. His prose in that book was a lavish, slow torrent, lush and haunting. Not surprisingly, Makine is the first novelist to have received France's prestigious Prix Medicis and Prix Goncourt for the same book.

His new novel, set in the 1960s, is equally as focused on dreams of glamor and glory contrasting with a dismal Siberian reality as crushingly onerous as the Soviet system that has planted prison camps there. And once again, it's aspects of French culture that come to symbolize everything fresh, exciting, and free that is missing in the narrator's life.

Reading this novel you enter a fascinating and quite alien world of snow, silence and history-as-nightmare, where blizzards cover towns with a weight that equals the burden of collectivization and the calamities of Russia's decades of devastation through Revolution, civil war, and war. In this setting, the brutal regularity of the winters is as heedlessly cruel as the inane Communist Party slogans and official optimism that ceaselessly forecast a glorious future proving the truth of Marxism- Leninism. But what about the barren here-and-now?

The handsome narrator Dimitri (nicknamed Don Juan) and his two eenaged friends struggle with all the familiar burdens of adolescence. Not surprisingly, Dimitri's first sexual encounter, with a prostitute whose life also affects his two friends, doesn't reveal the glories of love, but grotesque chagrin l'amour instead. It's Makine's rich prose that makes something original out of all the cliched inchoate longings for life, experience, certainty and identity. His prose--and the bitter, empty life in Dimitri's eastern Siberian town where people feel "condemned to this natural beauty, and to the suffering that it conceals."

Into that void shines an unexpected beam of light far grander than the Trans-Siberian Railway and its mysterious, magnetic passengers glimpsed through windows. Quixotically, the local cinema starts showing an adventure film starring Jean-Paul Belmondo and everyone for miles around starts lining up to see this movie not once, but dozens of times. In its chic, humor, and self-reflectiveness, the film offers unimaginable gifts to its Siberian audience. They see the unknown West there: excitement, sensuality, freedom, adventure, wit and sparkling fun. Belmondo's gorgeous smile on the movie poser undercuts years of fear and oppression under the Soviet system. And each of the trio of boys ironically finds deep lessons in the frivolous movie, identifying with different aspects of Belmondo's character: Lover, Warrior, and Poet.

Though the book is touchingly beautiful, it doesn't have quite the weight of Dreams of My Russian Summers, perhaps because there's no central figure who commands as much fascination as the grandmother there. You wonder if this book might not have made a better novella with some of the lushness trimmed away. At times the book's intoxication with language (which is its major strength), can even feel a bit exasperating. As H.G. Wells described Henry James's later style, you feel you're watching an elephant trying to pick up a pea.

But that's only an occasional problem. Most of the time you're happily, dreamily swept away, which is poetically appropriate. For the name of the Siberian river near Dimitri's town is Amur, also a Russian name for Cupid. And in French, the River Amur is spelled "Amour," which of course means love.

Samurai, Oetkin and the narrator, Juan, grow up in a sleepy town in Siberia. Their futures seem to be settled: one becomes a gold digger, lumberjack or prison guard, has sex with one of the local woman and slowly drinks oneself dead. But all three boys are idealists and dreamers in their own way, full of unfulfilled desires, who all somehow realize that there must be more to life. Only when they see the movie "The Red October" with Jean-Paul Belmondo, they realize that they can take their lives into their own hands.

Andrei Makine wrote a beautiful novel in which the reader can feel the snow and the Siberian cold and the hopelessness of life in a Siberian village, but also with exquisite descriptions of Siberian springs, romance, melancholy and unfulfilled desires. A great book.

This Osprey Men-at-Arms title makes an attempt to fill the long-neglected gap in First World War history covering the Tsarist Army. While many books evoke the image of a huge faceless Russian steamroller, few provide much details on exactly what this army looked like. This title makes modest progress in that regard and as such, deserves a place on the bookshelf of anyone interested in the First World War.

The Russian Army begins with an introduction covering Russia's strategic position and a chronology of the major events on the Eastern Front in 1914-1918. A 4 ½ page section covers the organization of the army, particularly infantry, cavalry, Cossack and artillery units. An interesting 3-page section covers elite units such as the Guards Corps, the St. George's Battalions, the "Death" Battalions and the "Savage" Division. A brief section also discusses non-Russian units. A rather dull 7-page section then covers uniforms and personal equipment. Tactics and weapons are discussed in the last 7 pages. As usual, the eight pages of color plates in the center of this thin volume are excellent. The same cannot be said for the photographs, which are rather bland posed shots.

Overall, this volume is decent but not great. There are nuggets of useful information, such as the belated Russian effort to form a heavy artillery corps - known by the Russian acronym TAON - in 1917. Since massed artillery was a Soviet specialty in the Second World War, it is interesting to see antecedents in the Tsarist army. The fact that the paucity of infantry training facilities caused the Tsarist army to station reserve battalions in the major urban areas like St Petersburg and that these under-utilized conscripts provided the fodder for Revolution in 1917 is also interesting. However, the sections on doctrine and tactics are far too short even for a volume this size (the chronology would have been a good place to make cuts). There is no real effort to address the pre-war doctrine and the author should have consulted Bruce W. Menning's excellent Bayonets before Bullets: the Imperial Russian Army, 1861-1914. The impact of the disastrous defeat in the 1904-1905 Russo-Japanese War and the impetus for post-war reform is almost totally ignored. Once the war began, the author ignores the enforced doctrinal shift from maneuver warfare to positional warfare; how did the Russian army adapt to trench warfare? Nor are the big campaigns discussed much, except for the successful Brusilov offensive. Instead, the reader is presented with a fairly vapid account of the Tsarist army that scarcely touches upon the impact of early disasters like Tannenberg or the gradual rot from revolutionary ideology. Nor is there even an order of battle provided for any phase of the war or mention of casualties. One might think that the fact that Tsarist Russia mobilized about 12 million men and that 1.7 million died in the war would be far more interesting to readers than giving virtually useless information on cavalry breeches stripes or tunic piping and lace. The author introduces interesting information on the organization of the Guards units for example, and then says very little else about them. Certainly the biggest sin of this volume is its failure to address the disintegration of the Tsarist army in 1917, except in passing. Since this volume is a stand-alone coverage of the subject, unlike others in the Men-at-Arms series, these omissions will not be rectified in other following volumes.

This is a very good addition to Osprey's Men-at-Arms series. The book will provide you with a short introduction to the Russian efforts during the Great War, and so will probably disappoint the reader who is looking for a good account of the battles and strategies of the Imperial Russian Army. And here comes the good part: it's a terrific uniform reference to the modeller/miniature wargamer! The book discusses the uniforms, certain insignias, unit distinctions (shoulder boards, etc.) and unit organisations of the last Czarist army in great detail that I'm sure you'll need not look elsewhere. The highlight of this book is of course the colour plates---they are simply incredible! I just cannot recommend this book highly enough---buy it!

What a difference both a knowledgeable author and a talented illustrator make together! Though the sum total of efforts since about 1990 have been quite satisfactory, some of the earlier works, and unfortunately some more recent, have suffered from insufficient knowledge of the subject, even though the illustrations were well done, the items were misidentified in them.
All in all, starting from a base of personal ignorance of the Russian military system of about one and an awareness of the conduct of the war about five, I now have an overall seven which is passing but no honors! But in time, if I go on this book will have set me on the right path to knowledge. Now if I had only spent my career reading Russian instead of Spanish and French.:-)
Just some of the revelations in this work are the appalling lack of a modern tactical system even in the face of the slaughter in the Russo Japanese War, the huge lack of an industrial base and the consequent paucity of heavy artillery, and lack of modern mobile mechanized transports, necessitating the transfer of the Armored Car Squadrons of the British Royal Naval Air Service and those of the Belgians to the east after the Western Front became impassible for such units.
But the real drag on the Russian Army was the archaic social structure in which high rank was an entitlement of birth, rather than the result of merit, and the lack of opportunity for both peasants and workers to rise, or for the middle class to lead and serve usefully. None of this could be fixed by developing an arms industry nor by simply importing modern technology without a support base to maintain it. Even then they misused their field communications and sent all their orders in the clear so that the German SIGINT troops listened in and the outnumbered German Army was able to win the battle of Tannenberg.
The Russian government had been so paranoid, xenophobic, and fearful of their neighbors that they laid the national railway system in broad guage so that all freight trains had to be unloaded at the border with Germany and Finland and the goods and materials carried across and reloaded and all passenger cars had to be lifted by hydraulics or mechanicals and wider trucks and running gear put under them.
Even in the face of all this the Russian Army held on and even ran successful offensives in the south against Austria Hungary and Romania but the people were fed up, the Russian Navy mutinied and the Czarate fell to the Kerensky regime which in turn fell to the Bolsheviks. And we all know what happened then.

To have a 21-year-old Gore speechwriter mature into a 25-year-old public policy book writer and then have that book enthusiastically trumpeted by a conservative former Speaker of the House is a moment of unique achievement. Let me be clear. While Andrei Cherny is a liberal, he has written one of the most thoughtful books about public policy in the information age to be produced by anyone of any ideological background or from any partisan belief. Cherny does a stunning job of placing the progressive movement in the context of the rise of the industrial corporation and makes a profound case that the rise of information technology that moves from mass production to intense personalization and choice that will profoundly change the relationship between government and citizens.

At one level these are not new ideas. Alvin and Heidi Toffler explained the general principles in 1979 in The Third wave. What makes Cherny's contribution so impressive is the degree to which he embeds the technological changes of today in the parallel ideas and experiences of 100 years ago. Just as the rise of the industrial corporation created the systems and the structures that could be translated into professional bureaucracy and into systems such as the city manager form of government, so the development of the automatic teller machine, the self serve gas station, the internet based personal reservation system for airlines and the personally directed 401k all spell the rise of a personally directed citizen process that will transform the process of governance.

I disagree deeply with some of Cherny's ideas, but I am in awe of his ability to take big concepts and embed them in American political history in a manner which will give them context and meaning for any citizen who wishes to study them.

I unequivocally recommend this book to any citizen who wants to know how we can improve our country.

Andrei Cherny offers a clear vision of the changes taking place within our political landsape and of the directions in which our next generation of leaders must be headed. Flying in the face of the current political climate, The Next Deal manages to provoke thought and inspire action without resorting to mere punditry or beanery. The book's message will resonate with readers of all political stripes. Cherny's work is to be chereshed, and should be considered a must-read, by the political professional and the informed citizen alike.

This book is a refreshing departure from the typical "generation X" fare of whimpering and simpering about the spiralling national dabt and budget deficits and those damned boomers. The author is a former aide in the Clinton Administration, but his past political engagements do not interfere with his clear-sightedness in viewing the current political scene.

Cherny believes that the U.S. is on the cusp of a political and economic realignment on the order of what happened in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Back then, the nation went from being an agrarian society of farmers and small businessmen to an industrial society of wage earners and assembly line workers. In political terms, Cherny says, this came to be reflected in the New Deal government of large bureaucratic agencies. Today, the trend towards bureacracy is being reversed by what Cherny calls "the Choice Generation" that will demand greater accountability, variety, responsiveness, and flexibility in public institutions. He believes that government needs to update itself to reflect changes going on in the e-conomy so that it can effectively protect the interests of the people. He excoriates "Treadmill Liberals" and "Blockhead Conservatives" who do not appreciate this.

Unlike many younger writers, Cherny has a light touch and wears his erudition gracefully. He glides effortlessly over the panorama of U.S. history and economic issues and weaves his thesis out of many disparate sources from Adam Smith to Frederick Winslow Taylor to Herbert Croly to modern political scientists. His balance and objectivity are also very good. His prose is crisp and clear.

It is too early to say that Cherny is the next Walter Lippmann or Herbert Croly, but this is an important contribution to the dialogue on the proper role of government in America.