MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER WAS IN TOWN WHEN THE BOOTLEGGER WAS SHOT AND KNEW HIM. THIS BOOK SHOWS THE TRUE LIFE AND STRUGGLES OF LIFE NOT JUST IN SMALL TOWNS BUT ACROSS AMERICA. EXCELLENT HISTORY LESSON OF SURVIVAL AND WHAT GENERATIONS BEFORE US DID TO GIVE US WHAT WE HAVE.

This is definitely a page turner--rare in nonfiction. Mr. Hallwas combines the suspense of a murder mystery and the facts of a history lesson and makes it all fascinating! I was born in the area and my family's surnames are mentioned throughout the book. Most of my family members have read the book and have SO enjoyed it! In fact it may have solved a generations-old family mystery of a missing relative! A must read for anyone with family roots in small town America!

This book is excellent. Definitely a "can't put down" book. Hard to imagine the quiet, sleepy town of Colchester was once involved with Al Capone, Shoeless Joe Jackson, bombings of homes of law enforcement agents, and murders, bootlegging and crimes of this nature!

I was turned on to this book after hearing the latest Richard Buckner release "The Hill", in which the musician uses the Spoon River Anthology as the basis for his conceptual music. After listening to this wonderful disc, I was compelled to read the actual work by Edgar Lee Masters. What I found was a book that was written in 1915, but that brings to life the voices of humanity louder than anything I've read in recent years. This book is more poetry than literature, but the stories of the residents of Spoon River that are collected within the pages are stories that are not soon forgotten.

This book has moved me more than anything else I've read in recent years, and I highly recommend that othes read this outstanding work of art.

There is no Spoon River, IL. Check your map. Several towns argue that they stake their claim in being what Masters asserted to be this mythical town. Petersburg and Lewistown, two towns of otherwise minor repute seem closest... but it is so much better we haven't an actual town... Spoon River's residents are our next door neighbors, whether we live in Central Illinois or Central Florida, or southern Alaska.

Masters has written not fables, but the essence of American life. He hasn't captured the life and times of 1915, but has instead recorded in 1915 the life and times of our present day America.

The same reason the paintings of Norman Rockwell makes sense is why Edgar Lee Masters poetry makes sense. To read the quick messages on the gravestone of one man, learning a little bit him, and something about a neighbor or two, we can learn a little about how we live in communities today.

Our lives, like Jimmy Stewart's character in "It's a Wonderful Life" found out, interact and impact everyone we meet. Who we love, who we should love and who we reject. And when we die, others feel the loss. Masters has aptly put this in a humorous, yet insightful way into short verses.

The poems don't rhyme. The meter is not solid, and the poetics aren't intricate. They aren't poems like Poe's or Dickinson, not in the way they wrote American poems. Don't expect iambic pentameter-based sonnets or villanelles. Expect a conversation, and listen in.

The poetry here is in the subtle use of social nuance. In the nuances are his insight and wit. Two readings will bring to light what you miss in the first.

Buy this book, read it slow. It reads faster than most poetry book, but don't get caught in the temptation to zoom through each poem just because you can.

After you read it, see the play if it happens to be performed in your town.

I fully recommend it.

Anthony Trendl

Edgar Lee Masters was a Chicago attorney who, long before Lake Woebegone, wrote of the mythical village of Spoon River, IL. Specifically, of the real stories of the people in it's graveyard. Now that they're dead the truth can finally be told. And almost all of them lived lives of terrible lies. I was introduced to it in Jr. High, was blown away at the realization that people all around me probably had these same kinds of secrets, living with them hidden, or hoped they were hidden. Paraphrasing, "I was of the party of Prohibition (anti-alcohol), villagers thought I died from eating watermelon. It was my liver. Every day at noon I slipped behind the partition at the drug store and had a generous drink from the bottle labeled Spiritum Fermenti!" The several poems that introduce Hamilton Greene are as powerful as anything I've ever read. Do yourself a huge favor, read this book! And then imagine yourself in the Spoon River graveyard, finally able to tell the truth about your life.

Wonderful and authentic, a great collection for any Sandburg devotee or any patriotic Chicagoan. I was a little disappointed with the actual quality of the book, binding and covers, but it is not an expensive edition and the collection is priceless. A must read!

In my reading of poetry I have developed a peculiar habit. In the Table Of Contents I pencil in an asterisk before the titles of poems that I especially enjoyed. I find that this helps me to quickly relocate special poems later when I want to re-read them. In my copy of Sandburg's "Chicago Poems" there are many asterisks. I think that one of the things that appeal to me about these particular series of poems is their "urbanity". As the title suggests, these are often poems about "city"... about the "cosmopolis". Sandburg had a way of animating concrete and asphalt, and making us aware of the inner life of things that millions of us urbanites walk past each day. In one of my favorites entitled "Skyscraper" he says "It is the men and women, boys and girls so poured in and out all day that give the building a soul of dreams and thoughts and memories." And it ends beautifully with "By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul." It is as though if any of Sandburg's Chicago Poems were to just remain silent for a moment, we would hear the faint night-time "humming and thrumming" of "a copper wire slung in the air." (cf. his Under A Telephone Pole).

He writes with a solemnity that avoids being morose, which is refreshing. But take note... "you will be thwarted every time, you try to catch a Sandburg rhyme." (they never rhyme). As for metre, his poems are in a free-verse very much reminiscent of Walt Whitman. The perfect poetry to read while feeding the pigeons, or otherwise commuting to and from the park.

A few weeks after September 11 2001, I came across the poem "Skyscraper" by Sandburg by chance in a huge volume of American poetry. In the millions of lines written about that horrible day, I found his words from 70 years ago to be the most moving. Here are some lines from that poem:

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BY day the skyscraper looms in the smoke and sun and has a soul.
Prairie and valley, streets of the city, pour people into it and they mingle among its twenty floors and are poured out again back to the streets, prairies and valleys.
It is the men and women, boys and girls so poured in and out all day that give the building a soul of dreams and thoughts and memories...

Hour by hour the caissons reach down to the rock of the earth and hold the building to a turning planet.
Hour by hour the girders play as ribs and reach out and hold together the stone walls and floors....

Men who sunk the pilings and mixed the mortar are laid in graves where the wind whistles a wild song without words
And so are men who strung the wires and fixed the pipes and tubes and those who saw it rise floor by floor.
Souls of them all are here, even the hod carrier begging at back doors hundreds of miles away and the brick-layer who went to state's prison for shooting another man while drunk...

Ten-dollar-a-week stenographers take letters from corporation officers, lawyers, efficiency engineers, and tons of letters go bundled from the building to all ends of the earth.
Smiles and tears of each office girl go into the soul of the building just the same as the master-men who rule the building.

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I have never studied Sandburg, but it seems to me he shares that same love of humanity and fairness that Walt Whitman was so famous for, along with the ability to craft lines as amazing as "hold the building to a turning planet". His love of his modern city seems like a remnant from another age, but his absolute belief in class equality is as relevant as any 2001 street protest.

The authors did a good job of research and excellent writing to give us a sense of life in Nauvoo. Of course, some controversial subjects are broached, polygamy, masonry, etc. but these were a part of life in Nauvoo so to shrink away from discussing them would have been to completley distort Nauvoo during the 1840's. The footnotes were easy to find and follow and the bibliography was excellent. This book is reccomened to anyone interested in Mormon Church history, and is indispensable if you want to learn about or write about Nauvoo, Illinois.