I turned to Henry James having only read one other of his works (Portrait of a Lady) not because I relished a return to a novel of manners and drawing room talk but because I was surprised to learn James had written something dealing with the political upheavals of the late 19th century, a time in terms of radical terror that makes more contemporary aspersions rather pale. Imagine a decade or so where four heads of state were assassinated, two of them from leading democracies. James' day was gripped by fears of social revolution and political upheaval and I was curious to see James perspective.

I do admire James' writing. He has a genious for conversation and the drawing out his characters' complex natures through repartee. This serves him well in slowly unveiling the complex interplay of personalities and emotions that usually leads to tragedy - at least so far as I've ascertained from reading two of his longer works. Reading James is like tracing a broad circle that moves ever inward towards a single point in the center. You arrive eventually at the climax, where action replaces words at last, but only after a long drawn out, fascinating in its way, story sustained only by the badinage of the characters and the occasional changes of scene from country manor to London to Paris, etc.

I was a little surprised by the editorial review of this book, that claims "the London underworld of terrorist conspiracies...comes alive under his pen with a violence that seems, 100 years later, only too familiar." I wonder if the reviewer read the book? There are no real conspiracies here, much less any violence. You read, or at least I did, waiting for one, praying for one, but the only thing approaching one comes at the end, and then only as a plan that leads to the final tragic act. I don't want to be too hard on the Princess Casamassima. It was in its way a brilliant work, in its Jamesian way I suppose. If you relish good conversation (and in this James rivals Oscar Wilde; I think James should have concentrated on plays) and undeniable genius in molding characters and slowly and laboriously, but lovingly, weaving out their fate, then James, and the Princess, is for you. If you're coming looking for some explosions and political intrigue it's not to be found here. James doesn't even really treat the social, economic, or political issues behind this growing rift in the social fabric with any seriousness, but treats of it only through the shifting, vague, often cynical opinions of his characters. But then Henry James is not primarily concerned with "the social problem", and treats of political philosophy and such only in a cursory manner, as dressing to brilliant conversation. And what's life about but good conversation? James, as I said, I take primarily as a novelist of manners, which means of people, individual persons, not "the people". This is not a shortcoming. I think James must have thought social issues rather vulgar. You can only treat with refinement the fine lines of the individual character. You can't make art in the factory or the streets (so I imagine him thinking). The tragedy here then is the tragedy of an individual, Hyacinth Robinson, drawn into something, and ultimately destroyed by his choices, due to the ideosyncracies of his own character and his own past. It's not about the revolutionary or anarchist movement per se, but about the struggles going on within a single human soul. Hyacinth had committed himself to a noble, idealistic, if single-minded, death before he had yet had time to consider the many facets life might take. In the end it is not socialism vs. capitalism, but East End on a winter's day vs. St. Mark's square at dusk, as Hyacinth's youthful, spontaneous, unrefined, and ill-considered radicalism gradually reaches its showdown with his more matured, compromising and balanced outlook. But he has arrived at these new insights too late, or has he?

Henry James's classic novel, "Princess Casamassima," tells the catastrophic tale of Hyacinth Robinson, whose tragic life began in the womb of his mother, Florentine Viver, a murderer who stabs and kills Hyacinth's aristocratic father, Lord Fredrick, rendering Hyacinth a bastard. Having no father, and a mother in prison for life, Hyacinth is adopted by Amanda Pynsent, a kind and generous seamstress with little wealth and social-status. A bookbinder by trade, Hyacinth experiences the lower echelons of society on a daily basis and sympathizing with the revolutionary cause, he vows to murder any noble-man named by Hoffendahl, the anarchist-leader. However, as Hyacinth is enabled, through Princess Casamassima, to break through his social and economic constraints, he begins to regret his promise of murder. Furthermore, as he associates himself with the upper class, his fondness for their way of life, refinement, and the arts increases. Therefore, Hyacinth's character goes through a metamorphosis from an underprivileged poor individual who sympathizes with the lower class and their cause, to an individual who looses that sympathy and desires, more than anything else, to be accepted and live in the higher social and economic class. This dichotomy and the notion of rejection by both classes, produces so much anxiety in Hyacinth that in order to preserve his honor, name and prevent murder, he commits suicide.
Hyacinth's father was an English aristocrat, while his mother was from a lower-class French family. The dual nature of Hyacinth's origin functions to for-shadow his dilemma in later life. Hyacinth is adopted my "Pinnie," who is a seamstress and a hard-working lower-class women. It is apparent that Pinnie goes to great lengths and makes sacrifices in her own life for Hyacinth. In fact, "Millicent's allusion to her shrunken industry," and her financial decline are due to Miss Pynsent's "remorse at taking Hyacinth to see his mother dying in prison." This exemplifies the level of care Miss Pynsent gave to Hyacinth. Further, having a meager income and lifestyle did not hinder her decision to take Hyacinth in and raise him to the best of her ability. As Hyacinth grew, so did his contempt for his mother. When going to visit her in jail he said, "I don't want to know her." (51) And at the same time recognizes that, "she must be very low," (51) and desperate. He also yearned to have been able to stake claim to his aristocratic title. The tragedy of his mother and father being revealed to Hyacinth at an early age, planted these conflicting thoughts in his mind when he was young, and may have set the stage for his desire to be part of the upper class and his disgust for the lower class as the novel unfolds.
Hyacinth had a major psychological conflict battling away in his psyche. On one side, he had contempt and shame for his mother, who was from the lower class, while having pride, and sadness for his father, who was an aristocrat. The conflicting nature of this dilemma came into play with Miss. Pynsent, whom Hyacinth loved dearly and respected, but who was also a member of the working, lower class. Therefore, Hyacinth was at odds with which side he should associate with and as the novel unfolds this conflict is played out. In the beginning of the novel, Hyacinth, suppressing his contempt and shame for his mother and focusing on the love for Pinnie, begins to sympathize with the working man and the anarchists' cause and makes the promise of murder, that he regrets for the rest of his life. As the novel progresses, his eyes are opened up to the upper class and their way of life, and his respect and awe for his dead father takes over his psyche. In the closing of the novel, he decides to take his own life, which symbolizes victory and resolution of the ongoing battle in his psyche. Had he killed a nobleman, he would have been no different from his mother, who also killed a nobleman. In fact Hyacinth says that he doesn't want to, "place her [Florentines] forgotten pollution again in the eyes of the world." (529) Therefore, by killing himself and choosing not to assassinate a nobleman, he finally resolves his psychological conflict and puts the battle and himself to rest.
Hyacinth chose to be a bookbinder by trade and therefore was a member of the working class. As such, he was surrounded by individuals who were also working, or from the lower classes. Visiting his friends, the Poupins one day, he meets Paul Muniment, a revolutionary who speaks to Hyacinth about the cause of the workingman and the lower class. Hyacinth has many political arguments and discussions and on one such occasion meets Captain Sholto, who later functions to introduce Hyacinth to Princess Casamassima and the upper class. This introduction occurs when Hyacinth takes his girlfriend, Millicent Henning to the theater, where Captain Sholto remembering Hyacinth from the café introduces him to the Princess. This is a major turning point in Hyacinth's life. The princess is beautiful, radiant, and introduces Hyacinth to "her people." The princess is American born and married into her title. Her husband was an Italian Prince. Hyacinth's eyes were opened to this new class, which he had only heard negative things about. This is ironic because it seemed that the criticisms of the rich were by the poor or lower classes. They were initiated by individuals whose reasoning for hate may have been deeply rooted in envy. For Hyacinth it was just a matter of being involved with a group and his suppression of the hatred for his mother, and love for Pinnie, both members of the lower class. However, when he began to be accepted by the upper class, he began to realize the beauty and privilege associated with the class. His appreciation for the finer things began to grow, and his psychological respect for his aristocratic father may have taken over his psyche. It seems that Hyacinth could have gone either way. However, had he stuck to the lower class, his mental conflicts would have never played out and he would have been forced to live with an ongoing psychological battle for the rest of his life. But the Princess gave him an opportunity to explore different elements of the London social scene and his psyche. Until Princess Casamassima, Hyacinth did not have the opportunity to join the upper class and associate himself with them. He was confined to the lower class, his mother's class. In reality, Hyacinth's contempt for his mother extended over to her socioeconomic class. His grasping of the lower-class group was simply because he had no choice, or because he was not consciously aware of the decisions he was making. However, the Princess allowed him to have another option. The only problem was that even though Hyacinth had now been exposed to this upper class, he did not really have the means economically to remain among them. This conflict was further increased by Hyacinth's promise to the anarchists. He had promised the revolutionaries that he would kill a nobleman. However, after his eyes had been opened to the upper class, this murder would have gone against everything he loved and yearned to be. He had not realized it until now, but his deep-rooted contempt for his mother, and his desire to dis-associate himself from her would make it impossible for him to kill anyone. Also, when returning from his European trip, he felt isolated. He felt that his girlfriend was cheating on him with Captain Sholto and he felt betrayed by the Princess. At this point in his life, he could neither turn to the lower-class anarchists, or the upper class Princess. Both had rejected him. So the novel, in essence ends where it began. With Hyacinth in the middle. Belonging neither to the upper class nor the lower class, just the way he was born. In light of being in limbo, Hyacinth was able to resolve his ongoing psychological conflicts between rejecting his birth mother, respecting and loving his adopted mother, and honoring his birth father.
Hyacinth Robinson was a man with many conflicts. In the beginning of the novel, he was colored with many unresolved conflicts, and as the novel progressed, these psychological conflicts seemed to manifest themselves in reality. His conflict between class distinctions manifested in him making the mistake of promising to the anarchists that he would murder a nobleman of choice. Furthermore, as the novel progressed, his need to associate with his father's class, the upper class, created another conflict in that he now couldn't go through with the murder. These physical conflicts were only manifestations of the mental and psychological battles that were going on in Hyacinth's psyche. So, physically, he rejected the anarchists, which in his psyche represented his mother, and instead brought physical and mental resolution to his predicament by taking his own life. Therefore, Hyacinth conquered not only the physical streets of London and overcame his physical place in society, but also overcame the psychological problems that he was born with, but did not die with.

Early James work has some of his best writing. I'm surprised there aren't more reviews for this book on here. The intermingling of the classes, plus as well, how the poor and rich come to radically change both their views and positions in the world, makes for fascinating reading. James' writing style is always hypnotic and will stay with you long after you put down a chapter. Flowing as it does rather elegantly, in fluid motion.
The title character is a very complex heroine. You don't know whether to cheer for her or hiss at her. A woman with her intentions in the right place, yet as well, someone who thinks nothing of discarding close confidantes. She's an interesting mix of dichotomies. Hyacinth is both aptly wary of her and beguiled by her in the same breath.
Not quite as powerful as his latest works, still, for fans of great literature and ideas, this is a fine way to spend a few idle weeks.

The issue of American servicemen who are missing in action in WW II, Korea, and Vietnam, continues to be plagued by books, articles, websites, and organizations that spread pseudo-history, misinformation, inaccuracies, and falsehoods. This book is one of the landmarks of that genre. Sauter and Sanders selectively quote from official records, cite unidentified sources, cite sources whose stories have been completely refuted, and generally weave a tale that, while it sounds convincing, is nonsense to the core. Co-author James Sanders' latest caper (in 1997) was to use his wife's connections to gain access to the wreckage of TWA flight 800 where he removed a piece of fabric from a seat. He claimed that the red substance on the fabric was missile fuel, proving that TWA 800 was shot down by a US missile. He has even published a book on the subject. TWA, the FBI, and the company who manufactured the seats have all pointed out that the substance is the adhesive used to attach the fabric to the seat cushion. "Men We Left Behind" is based on similar "scholarship." For example, to support their claims that thousands of US POWs were abandoned to the Soviets at the end of WW II, Sanders cites a message sent in April 1945 from a British commander in the Ukraine, reporting that approximately 14,000 Allied troops were under the control of a Soviet general. Because 14,000 Allied POWs were not repatriated from the Ukraine, Sanders concludes that these men were abandoned to the Soviet gulag. Sanders conveniently overlooks a follow-up message from the US National Archives in which the same British commander reports a few days later that his first message was in error. In fact, there were 14,000 Russian troops under Allied control. When I pointed out this fact to Sanders, he accused me of fabricating the second message. "The Men We Left Behind" is nonsense. Sadly, though, it perpetuates the pseudo-history that surrounds the MIA issue. For a serious look at this subject, read H. Bruce Franklin, "M.I.A.: Mythmaking in America," Susan Katz-Keating, "Prisoners of Hope," Malcolm McConnell, "Inside Hanoi's Secret Archives," and Paul Mather, "M.I.A.: Accounting for the Missing in Southeast Asia." All four of these books are available from Amazon.com.

Deceived by the government, about the fate of its other lostsons. Now, the compelling story of the fate of POWs is revealed in horrifying detail in The Men We Left Behind. The Men We Left Behind reveals that it was neither peace, nor honor, but blackmail and dishonor.

The Men We Left Behind is the definitive expose of this despicable fraud. The book includes compelling personal stories of individual POWs who were caught behind enemy lines and Pentagon lies. The authors name these POWs and tell their tragic stories.

The Men We Left Behind reveals how the Senate POW Committee, chaired by Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts, in an effort to rush theCommittee's investigation and open trade with Vietnam, covered up the true story and protected Henry Kissinger and other U.S. officials as they concealed the truth.

Confirmed by interviews with returned POWs, sources within the KGB, The Men We Left Behind is a shocking indictment of Henry Kissinger, Richard Nixon, the Department of Defense and the Senate Select Committee on POW/MIA Affairs.

This 1993 book covers the POW/MIA issue from World War II through the Paris Peace Accords to the corruption in the 1991-1992 Senate Select POW/MIA committee. Sauter and Sanders expose the fraudulent POW/MIA "official" positions taken by the U.S. government.

The number of documented examples along with critical analysis puts this book way ahead of those books supported by the U.S. government. If you want to see solid documentation on the biggest scandal of the century then this book is a must read.

Rich Daly

Researcher and Member of the Board of Directors of the Minnesota League of POW/MIA Families and Minnesota Won't Forget POW/MIA

Was there any American more European than Henry James? "The Ambassadors" begins in England and takes place mostly in Paris, and even though most of its characters are American, it is only referentially concerned with its author's native country. At the same time, the novel is not about Americans frivolously sowing their wild oats in exotic ancestral lands, but rather how they use their new settings to break away from restrictive American traditions and conventions and redefine their values and standards of living.

The main character is a late-middle-aged widower named Lambert Strether who edits a local periodical in the town of Woollett, Massachussetts, and is a sort of factotum for a wealthy industrialist's widow named Mrs. Newsome, a woman he may possibly marry. Strether's latest assignment from Mrs. Newsome is to go to Paris to convince her son, Chad, to give up what she assumes is a hedonistic lifestyle and return to Woollett to marry a proper, respectable young lady, his brother-in-law's sister to be specific. There is a greater ulterior motive, too -- the prosperity of the family business relies on Chad's presence.

In Paris, Strether finds that Chad has surrounded himself with a more stimulating group of friends, including a mousy aspiring painter named John Little Bilham, and that he is in love with an older, married woman named Madame de Vionnet. Providing companionship and counsel to Strether in Paris are his old friend, a retired businessman named Waymarsh, and a woman he met in England, named Maria Gostrey, who happens to be an old schoolmate of the Madame's. When it appears that Strether is failing in his mission to influence Chad, Mrs. Newsome dispatches her daughter and son-in-law, Jim and Sarah (Newsome) Pocock, and Jim's marriageable sister Mamie, to Paris to apply pressure. Ultimately, Strether, realizing that he's blown his chances with Mrs. Newsome and that Chad has the right idea anyway, finds himself enjoying the carefree life in Paris, which has liberated him from his lonely, stifling existence in Woollett.

Not having cared much for James's previous work "The Wings of the Dove," I felt something click with "The Ambassadors." Maybe it's because I found the story a little more absorbing and could empathize with Strether; maybe it's because my reading skills are maturing and I'm learning to appreciate James's dense, oblique prose style. I realize now that, for all the inherent difficulty in his writing, literature took a giant step forward with Henry James; if the Novel is, as he claimed, "the most independent, most elastic, most prodigious of literary forms," it takes a writer like James to show us how.

Reading "The Ambassadors," I was awed by the subtletly of emotion and social gesture James was able to describe. Clearly here was a crafted that had been years in the honing, and I appreciate the book's liberation from the plot-heavy mechanics of earlier books like "The Portrait of a Lady" and "The American." Everything is only subtly insinuated; whole lives can hinge upon half-meant gestures or long-buried social prejudices. In this way, the book has some of the wistful tone of "The Age of Innocence," but more depth if less elegant prose.

The prose is the thing -- James was dictating by this time (how on Earth does one dictate a novel?), and it shows. His chewy ruminations and meandering, endlessly parenthetical sentences are hard to digest. I think James went too far in his late style, and "The Ambassadors" might have benefited from a sterner editor. Still, this is an important book, absolutely worth the read.

James' novel affected me in part because I also fell in love with Paris, though not with a Parisian. The sinuous, difficult prose provides the perfect vehicle for the adventures of aging Lambert Strether as he goes to Paris to try to recover a New England son who will not return to his domineering mother and take a role in the family business--manufacturing an article that is never named. In Europe he meets a degree of sophistication he had never known but also a jungle of moral ambivalences. If I gave the novel only four stars, it is not because of the difficult prose, which I sometimes cursed, but because the crucial instance of moral turpitude which he describes seems practically banal now. I once bundled up all my Henry James books in a fit of pique and was on the way to taking them to a library book sale, but thought better of it. And it was a better thought.

I read this book as part of an English course on late-19th and 20th century American literature. It's the first time I've read a novel by Henry James, having so far only seen the movie adaptations of 'Portrait of a Lady' and 'Washington Square'. Having been wary of reading James (because of his reputation for dense, convoluted prose) I was surprised at this novel's relatively brisk plot and overall readability. The story itself, ostensibly a simple one about one man's inability to understand a seemingly complicated woman, also has interesting things to say about gender, class and the relationship between the United States (personified by the heroine) and the rest of the Western world. I was actually somewhat amazed that the image of America created through the characterization of Daisy Miller still rings true 125 years after this book's publication.

I hadn't read James for about eight years or so when I came across a copy of Daisy Miller in a pile of discarded books at a local university. It sat on my shelf for a while longer, as I knew full well that James writes in thick sentences, making up for the lack of volume by quite a bit.

What I found was what I have come to expect from James, even in his early works. This book does a great deal in terms of pulling together many levels of interpretaion: Old World versus New World, common versus exclusive, and also the chaser and the chased.

This last viewpoint in particular is what stuck with me. We have a young girl, and a young man. They meet once for a few days, and the young man becomes utterly fixated on her, if for any other reason that she is playing, in his view, hard to get. When she turns her attention elsewhere, the ante is doubled and tripled when, for a variety of reasons most likely centered around our young hero Winterbourne, the American society in Rome starts to give our heroin the "cold shoulder". Given that James writes most often to examine the person most in focus in the novel, I tend to atribute most of the troubles of this young girl to both herself and Winterbourne, not just the society of the time. This is far from a safe academic interpretation, however.

The notes included in the book are helpful for getting into the mindset of the typical reader of James' day, but are not distracting. Overall, this would probably be suitible for an ambitios middle school student, and just right for most high school students.

As is often the case for Henry James, there is scarcely a detail of his work that can be made better somehow.

DAISY MILLER: A STUDY, 1878, is among the principal novellas of history and literature. Very simply, the story involves a young girl Daisy Miller, wandering through Europe, and from America. She is sensitive and capricious. Her ways attract attention, such that perhaps she appears a lustrous woman of carnal desires, or disrespectful to cultures not her own, or stupid. At any event, she catches the eye of another tourist, Mr. Winterbourne, a "nice guy" who not unlike the nice guys of our own world lucks out. He does not get Daisy, but watches as she kisses another and loses herself to unappreciatve men. She does this from anger, resentment, and want of attention. She becomes a symbol of many things, and in the end she dies. The book has been debated for decades.

The dialogue is so well crafted as to be sacred. No further editing of this story is possible, for James took very great pains to edit his work multiple times over. And here, we see a flow of talking and happenings that seem to real to even be on the page. As for instance the communication of Mr. Winterbourne and Daisy's little brother (I believe). The little boys talks, and behaves, as a little boy would. And, Mr. Winterbourne likewise behaves as a young man would to a young boy. Greatest of all are the marvellous dialogues between Daisy and Mr. Winterbourne. They flirt at times, and one feels Winterbourne's longing for her. They feel his sadness, a real sadness, as when she is not feeling for him nearly as deeply. I likened myself to to the man.

I am glad to know that Mr. James was credited as having been "the Master."

THE EUROPEANS IS NOT ONE OF HENRY JAMES BETTER NOVELS. NEVERTHELESS, FOR FANS OF JAMES, IT'S QUITE READABLE.
THE NOVEL IS ABOUT 2 EUROPEANS - A YOUNG MAN AND WOMAN, BROTHER AND SISTER, WHO TRAVEL TO AMERICA (BOSTON) TO VISIT THEIR LONG LOST AMERICAN COUSINS.
THE PLOT INVOLVES THE AMOROUS ENTANGLEMENTS OF THE COUSINS AND THEIR AMERICAN FRIENDS.
MUCH OF THE STORY DEALS WITH CONTRASTING THE EUROPEAN AND AMERICAN "WAYS" AND "LIFESTYLES" - A FAVORITE TOPIC OF JAMES.
THE BOOK IS NOT A COMPLEX READ LIKE SOME OF HIS LATER NOVELS. IT'S QUITE ACCESSIBLE AND MILDLY ENTERTAINING.

THE EUROPEANS IS NOT ONE OF HENRY JAMES BETTER NOVELS. NEVERTHELESS, FOR FANS OF JAMES, IT'S QUITE READABLE.
THE NOVEL IS ABOUT 2 EUROPEANS - A YOUNG MAN AND WOMAN, BROTHER AND SISTER, WHO TRAVEL TO AMERICA (BOSTON) TO VISIT THEIR LONG LOST AMERICAN COUSINS.
THE PLOT INVOLVES THE AMOROUS ENTANGLEMENTS OF THE COUSINS AND THEIR AMERICAN FRIENDS.
MUCH OF THE STORY DEALS WITH CONTRASTING THE EUROPEAN AND AMERICAN "WAYS" AND "LIFESTYLES" - A FAVORITE TOPIC OF JAMES.
THE BOOK IS NOT A COMPLEX READ LIKE SOME OF HIS LATER NOVELS. IT'S QUITE ACCESSIBLE AND MILDLY ENTERTAINING.

THE EUROPEANS IS NOT ONE OF HENRY JAMES BETTER NOVELS. NEVERTHELESS, FOR FANS OF JAMES, IT'S QUITE READABLE.
THE NOVEL IS ABOUT 2 EUROPEANS - A YOUNG MAN AND WOMAN, BROTHER AND SISTER, WHO TRAVEL TO AMERICA (BOSTON) TO VISIT THEIR LONG LOST AMERICAN COUSINS.
THE PLOT INVOLVES THE AMOROUS ENTANGLEMENTS OF THE COUSINS AND THEIR AMERICAN FRIENDS.
MUCH OF THE STORY DEALS WITH CONTRASTING THE EUROPEAN AND AMERICAN "WAYS" AND "LIFESTYLES" - A FAVORITE TOPIC OF JAMES.
THE BOOK IS NOT A COMPLEX READ LIKE SOME OF HIS LATER NOVELS. IT'S QUITE ACCESSIBLE AND MILDLY ENTERTAINING.

If you can imagine Brittian in a time when "class" meant society and not a step towards your Master's.....If you can sit comfortably balancing a book and a cat on a rocker in front of a fire place and not give a care if the phone does ring.....this collection may be for you. I find that people who speak of "class," as in the context of this book, often presume they are some part of it's upper portion. So be it. A fledgling learns of a house servant being rather astute and observant during the dinners and discussions to which he tends. Their acquaintence grows and they both mature from the experience. As the master of the house is a bachelor and has a multitude of friends and guests constantly visiting, there is a veritable plethora of information to be gained by merely serving tea or pretending to draw the drapes in the library. So much to be learned. It can be droll, using phrases such as "rather mad" and the like. Take some time and mull over the not so distant past and get over those pesky American traits for a few hours.

"On the Altar of Freedom" was an interesting book in that it compiled the letters sent to a newspaper by Corporal James Gooding of the 54th Massachusetts Infantry (the "Glory" outfit). By reading the letters (ie the book), one can get a view of Civil War life from the view of a black Union soldier. The major drawback to the work is that Gooding was sending the letters to the newspaper for the express purpose of them being published. What would have been more interesting would have been to see his private (if any) correspondence. That way the reader would have been able to see the private man. This book is also an interesting read because of the mention of unapolgetic black CSA sharpshooters being captured by Union forces outside Fort Wagner.