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Book includes an impressive 247 footnotes, 45 photographs and graphics, and 10 pages single-spaced of bibliography -- for those readers who still need more information!
I think that readers of David Kahn's "The Codebreakers" or Hinsley's "Codebreakers" would surely like this book as well.
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The book also makes use of numerous black and white and colour photos, many of which have not been published previously. The only disappointment in this area is that some of the early colour photographs, including the cover shot are reproduced with a magenta cast, suggesting deterioration of the negatives, which I would have expected to be better corrected.
Chapters include development and production of the MGB, various stages in its life, as well as the GT, MGC, and V8 versions and the politics and corporate history pertinent to the MGB. I found the period of transition from chrome bumpers to "Sabrina" bumpers to rubber bumpers particularly well documented. The death of the MGB and the Abingdon works, and the attempts to rescue them, are also thoroughly covered. In addition, Knowles lends chapters to racing activities during the production period, and touches upon the brochures and advertising material. Separate chapters are devoted to the assembly of MGB's in Australia and the production of the Heritage bodyshell.
It should be noted that the author suggests that this book should be considered a complimentary publication to Anders Clausager's 'Original MG', which concentrates more on the precise production history of the MGB. Meanwhile Knowles has done an excellent job of presenting the why's, how's and who's of the saga.
My copy of the book was on order months in advance of publication. It was well worth the wait. I highly recommend it.
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Thomas Merton, probably the most activist contemplative in the 20th century, surely read the book in the original and felt he could make a more readable translation. This version is almost painfully literal. He adopts Augustine's Latin style, which tends to be very verbose. Forty word sentences, such as we would "ding" a 9th grader for, are the result. And those are the short ones! Nonetheless, blame the Latin original.
Still, shortening the sentences will in many cases lose some of the meaning. Latins thought a lot more rigorously and logically than we. Augustine was their leader. Don't read this non-stop, and have a history of Rome handy, just in case. This is a Christian classic that every educated person should know, but that doesn't mean it's as easy as, say, something by Tim LeHay.
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Near the end of my first reading of Knowles' esceptional novella, I asked myself: what authority does the author have to recast the major figures of history as deviants and scoundrels? Does the end result justify his means? In my humble opinion, the answer is a resounding "yes!". Underneath an insipid and meandering exterior, Knowles' novella is a gem of precise plotting, polished tone, and bizarre vignettes (one character is described as having invented the submarine "to escape the world of women on land"). It takes real talent to write something so consistently humorous and puzzling, even upon re-reading (in fact, I suggest reading the book twice - it's a mere 138 pages long, a night's reading).
Even the author's mundane, conversational language and the little, irritating, anachronistic faux-pas he commits so frequently (like art "yet to be hung" on the walls of Leonardo's Vatican, or sugar cubes in Vermeer's Delft) and his main character tries to pass off as historical truth serve to gradually estblish the narrator as a less than sympathetic character.
In the end, the book boils down to the question whether the camera does indeed bear an ancient curse, or if the "patterns of history" are siply products of an agitated imagination. I lean toard the latter, that the narrator is playing out his fantasies in his research journals, but there is no real, unequivocable evidence either way. Then again, who is the blind woman in the photograph? Is Darin as innocent as he claims? What did happen on that foggy night? It's easy to jump to the obvious conclusion, but far more tantalizing to ponder the possibilities.
For what it's worth reading, "The Secrets of the Camera Obscura" is worth reading twice. I hope I have helped you make the decision whether it's worth reading at all.
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Jefferson, the novel's protagonist and self-professed "curator of the aesthetics of everyday life", isn't your ordinary Peeping Tom. Each summer he rents out his apartment to an unsuspecting young lady, then heads to the building across the street and a boarded-up apartment. Through a hole in one of the windows, Jefferson photographs his tenants, capturing their most private moments on film and calling his work a "conceptual art project". He wants to eradicate the boundaries between life and art but his actions are the only way he has of coping with a case of agoraphobia so severe he cannot even walk through Central Park.
His tenant this summer is Maya Vanasi, a Hindu woman possessing a bindi, or "third eye" - a red dot in the center of her forehead, which Maya tells Jefferson is a window to the soul. For Jefferson, the bindi marks the beginning of an obsession and an eventual end to his summer occupation.
Taunt prose and a well-paced unraveling of a creepy yet fascinating story define this excellent novel which chronicles one man's insistent need to frame another's life, a need that ultimately leads him into a sea of questions concerning matters of faith, darkness and perception - both his and that of others.
This is a tremendous novel -- Knowles gets almost everything right. First of all, the New York stuff is right on -- the eateries, the snobbery, the housing market, the 42nd street library, etc.... As a native New Yorker myself, I loved the New Yorkiness of this book right down to the narrator's odd food cravings and penchant for gourmet wine.
I also loved the understated hyper education level of the narrator. The resulting dialogue is at times hilarious. Take for example this excerpt in which he is explaining to a prospective tenant about his background in classical music, "When I was a young boy, six or seven, I'd stand in front of the mirror holding a pair of chopticks like two conductor's batons. I'd wave the things around in the air listening to whole symphonies. I memorized Beethoven's Fifth from start to finish. Got pretty good at making up my own signals." With no comment at all, the girl replies, "When I was six I listened to ABBA and Air Supply." End of joke and dialogue continues. Knowles doesn't have to play extra hard for the laugh because he writes such good dialogue.
At times you'll feel like you're in the mind of a serial killer, but actually the narrator is far more benign than that -- just a little voyeuristic in his search for art. Though evil lurks in the background, it never becomes ugly and the joke turns on our narrator.
I loved this book and highly recommend it to anyone looking for a suspensful, New Yorky read.