What Beatrice was to Dante Thomas Howard is to readers of Charles Williams, whose novels are not exactly hell to read, but some may yet find them somewhat tough going. It's a pity, because as with the Latin Mass, if we only knew what we were missing we would clamor for more. Thankfully Ignatius Press has reprinted this book by Thomas Howard so that we do have a guide through this marvelous world. In this book, originally published by Oxford Press, Thomas Howard starts with the party line that Williams is a bad writer, and then shows us why he's a very good one (Thomas Howard can be very sneaky). He explains why CW can't be considered a "major" writer, and maybe not even a good candidate for a minor one, but by the end of the book one is convinced that the label "major" is too small to fit Charles Williams.

Howard is similarly dismissive of his own writing in this book, even though it stands as one of his best (his best to date, in my opinion, is On Being Catholic). He suggests the reader not even read the whole book, but just jump around to the relevant parts for the Williams novel he/she is interested in. Here again, I must take exception and express a minority viewpoint. The book that does seem pieced together this way is Howard's The Achievement of C.S.Lewis, whereas The Novels of Charles Williams reads seamlessly and grippingly start to finish. Not that Howard's Lewis book is bad--the bit on Till We Have Faces is very good, as well as parts on the Silent Planet Trilogy. But it seems to me that the prefaces for these two books got switched.

Anyone venturing into a Williams novel for the first time might find the water, as it were, initially cold and uninviting, regardless how heartily the swimmers urge him or her to dive in. Howard is like a personal trainer, both preparing the reader and helping them stay in shape when, gripped with the strange madness that afflicts readers of Williams novels, they recklessly swim further and further from shore. Howard is obviously among the initiates, and the more dismissive he is of Willaims' standing as a writer, the more you want to read him. 'Nuff said. Dive in. The water's fine.

A fascinating, comprehensive, must-have for all interested in gastroenterenology...

Nobody has described the venezuelan turttles better than trebbau in this book

Although The Case Of Charles Dexter Ward is one of the few old-fashioned horror books I have read, I found it quite interesting. The plot isn't as far-fetched as so many plots of modern-day horror stories are, but it's still fiction. The horror/action doesn't unfold too early in the story, but when it does you won't stop reading. The descriptions, in the book, of different regions are so clear and imaginable you will be able to draw pictures and design maps. The ending is unique, almost predictable, that's what makes you want to hurry-up and finish the book. Another thing I like about the book is the use of language. I think it goes perfect with the setting even though I had to read some lines over in order to understand them. To write this book in modern-day language would set it apart from other horror stories in that it wouldn't be as good.

Others have summarized the plot of this excellent story better than I can; I just wanted to mention two things: this is one of, if not the longest Lovecraft work (and the best-structured of his longer works), and it was made (adapted) into a fair-to-middling movie called The Haunted Palace in the early 60's, starring Vincent Price and, I believe, Debra Padgett. I think they had run out of Poe stories.

This is one of THE Lovecraft stories to read alongside The Call of Cthulhu, At the Mountains of Madness, The Dunwich Horror, and The Shadow Over Innsmouth. No one writes horror like Lovecraft. His cold and analytical style somehow makes his works even more terrifying. It may be the shock of the rational scientific minds of his character's seeing something that goes beyond explanation that makes his stories so jolting, or the horrifying results of what happens to those rational, scientific, and inquisitive characters, like Charles Dexter Ward, who seek the truth and discover too much of it. But maybe the reason Lovecraft is so scary is because all positive human emotions such as love are abandoned leaving only fear. The Case of Charles Dexter Ward is chock full of fear and little else as it takes you through the paranoia of the American colonial days, through the degeneration of a young man's sanity, and through the ancient catacombs of an old house where something inhuman screams from the bottom of a pit. The mystery aspect of the story isn't too hard to figure out, but that may not have been so back in the 1930's when it was first written, but the journey is absolutely terrifying. Lovecraft puts pure fear on paper and that's something no modern horror writer I can think of has been able to do since.

Don't be fooled by Steven McLeod's review. This book is not an English translation of the French poet's work. It is printed entirely in French with no side-by-side translation. Just don't make the same mistake I did and send it as a gift to a non-French speaking friend!

(By the way, my three stars mean nothing as I couldn't read the book either, but was required to fill-in the field to submit this "review.")

I am not a writer, nor a critic. I am a mere reader who appreciates good works. This is one of my staple books, which I often reread and recommend to people who I feel might have the mind to appreciate genius. This is the best translation I know of and as a necessary feature of translated poetry, it includes the original French text, as well. Baudelaire reveals the beauty within darkness and exposes the darkness within light. Brilliance has always been rare, but I would say now it is more rare than ever within the literary field. This may very well be due to books like this going unread by the majority of the population. This is a wonderful book to enhance a person's writing depth, and their understanding of the world. Other great author's and books are: Illuminations by Arthur Rimbaud, Mallarme, Antonin Artaud's Anthology and The Death of Satan, Lautremont and Maldoror by Issidore Ducasse, All of the Marquis de Sade's works, Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust, Finnegan's Wake by James Joyce, Anne Sexton's Complete Works, La Batarde by Violette Leduc, the diaries of Anais Nin, and Sylvia Plath's poetry.

... This book does indeed include the original French version in its second half, and Richard Howard's breathtakingly vivid and vital English translation in its first half. This is the definitive English translation of Les Fleurs du Mal, and by far my favorite.

As to the substance of this remarkable book of poetry, Baudelaire's work is one of such groundbreaking genius on so many levels that it may never be equaled. He has achieved Gustave Flaubert's great aim of "le seul mot juste" (the unique right word) with such consistency that one can only smile in amazement and wonder. The aural music created by this poetry intoxicates as the meaning of the words strikes deep into the heart of the reader, putting into words thoughts and feelings that he could never express. These alternate with shocking and horrifying images that bring to mind Kafka's "Metamorphosis." Longing, irony, desolation, desire, betrayal, anger, melancholy, ecstasy, alienation, and more are Baudelaire's subjects, and his words are the arrows in his quiver that never miss their mark. A few of my favorites are: The Albatross, Elevation, Hymn to Beauty, The Head of Hair, The Cat, Spleen III, The Clock, and Hymn.

As a look into the human heart and mind, I rank this work with Michel de Montaigne's "Essays." It would also land on my list of universal, desert-island books.

Wow! There is definitely a whole world where Allie Mcbeal-esque angst does not exist and I think I like it. Bukowski, of which this book was my introduction, is wholly unapologetic about his life, loves, lusts and somewhat audacious lifestyle.

I was going to say that Bukowski is more a man's writer than a women's although I wondered about the reaction to that as so many women clearly love him. But his writing is so steeped in the seedy, upfront, hard-nosed male appealing style. Maybe it is just that it is that I only know males who have read his works. Either way he is a strange fish. After this I went on to read a book of people's impressions of Buck, much more informative I think. In this I felt a little like I was left with his reflection rather than a clear insight into him.

An interesting way of meeting Buck to see if you like his stuff, or him at all.

Lots of pictures & worth the money. I bought mine at Borders--and don't regret it. Howard Sounes did a wonderful job of putting it all together. Even includes photos of some of Bukowski's old haunts (bars and such where he hung out), as well photos taken when he lived in various dives before he made it. Photos of his daughter Marina, photos of some of the women he dated--and even one of the great love of his life: Jane Cooney Baker. Not to be missed. Top notch all the way. I'd like to see them do a sequel to this. Get it if you can!

An excellent & well laid-out book displaying the life of Charles Bukowski. The book shows the real people & places depicted in Buk's poems & stories. It even has a photo of his grave which brings it home that such a lively individual is no longer with us even though new books of his unpublished/uncollected poems continue to be published. Alan/2001

The 'Building of Castle Howard' is a sometimes amusing and consistently fluid account of the conception and construction of the Third Earl of Carlisle's estate in Yorkshire. The patron, from a 'high-handed' and cocky young Whig to a dour but sincere father of miscreant and ungrateful offspring [...] is addressed in the opening chapter, and the rationale behind the demolition of a provincial village to build an architectural showpiece is traced. The architects - Vanbrugh and Hawksmoor - are examined in similar contexts.

However, a descrition of Sir Thomas Robinson's incongrous alterations to the splendid mausoleum (1729 - 1745, though Summerson suggested 1742 as the date of completion) is not a sufficient account of his activities at the estate: the northern range of the house features several rooms completed under Robinson's supervision, but these are simply not mentioned.

The author combs out an icongraphical programme in Pelligrini's ceiling paintings in the domed hall (ie, the 'Fall of the Phaeton'), but a similar analysis with respect to the garden monuments draws different conclusions. Carlisle's changing position as a patron and politician accounts for this: the estate shifts, in Saumarez Smith's opinion, from being a an opulent panorama to an introverted retirement home for the earl, whom, in his dotage and increasingly unhappy free time, commenced autonomous study in matters of contemporary religious thought. This, therefore, effected his decision to build a grand mausoleum rather than allow his remains to fall into the hands of what his lengthy (and only) poem preserved at Castle Howard, described as corpulent and corrupt Anglican clergmen. As an explanation for the development of the garden buildings, this is not as simplistic as my description might phrase it: the book's account is entirely convincing. I do not imagine that 'The Building of Castle Howard' - an inexpensive but well-illustrated gem - will be in print much into the future. However, its interest is broader than simply an account of architectural patronage. Unlike other studies of 18th Century British art which read as prosaic 'case-studies' (especially in the case of portrait painting, all of which make the same point), Saumarez Smith's book is an autonomous and compelling analysis of specific buildings and their conception, not a dour treatise from which established generalities are laboriously combed out.

this book is soo good, (apart from its prise), it describes how were castles built and different types of castles. For the price, ive expected more, but the book is still good.

This writer was a big influence on thinkers in the early part of the 20th century, most notably P.D. Ouspensky. The arguments made here still have not been answered in any fundamental way and are therefore still as fresh as the day they were written.

I have read this old but still worthy book after reading "Flatland" which is a perfect compliment. One word: KEWL.

Please note that the review posted in 1999 by a Dallas reader is not written by that person, but was taken from my review in Scram magazine. -Kim Cooper, editrix

This is one of the more profound true-crime books I have read. A gripping, hair-raising tale of the life and thrill-killings of odd-ball Charles "Smitty" Schmid, of Tucson, Arizona, back in the pre-pot days of the mid 1960's. These people swelter in the desert, run amok and raise all holy hell. Author John Gilmore paints a painstakingly accurate picture of life in those Sixties times. It is a sad, stunning, brutal, and amazing tale. A knock-out book you will read more than once.

COLD-BLOODED by John Gilmore is a fascinating study of the 60's suburban nightmare. "Smitty" was a charismatic rich kid perpetually surrounded with adoring underlings. They didn't seem to mind his peculiar appearance (heavy Man-Tan makeup, a ghoulishly enlarged beauty mark, lace-backed boots stuffed with trash, so he'd look, uhm, taller) or his oft-confessed propensity for murder. These kids spent their time hanging out, racing cars, listening to rock and roll, and swinging. Probably they all would have grown up to become our parents had not Schmid felt compelled to pull a Leopold and Loeb on a neighborhood girl. Later he repeated the trick on a persistent ex- and her baby sister, his best buddy finked to the cops, and this so-called "pied piper" got shipped off to the big house, where he was himself murdered. Gilmore got in good with many of the key players, and lets them speak as length about their world: it's a strikingly amoral and enticing place. In his letters and speech Schmid comes across as a brainy baby nihilist; it's a shock to see his illiterate scrawl reproduced. On the down side, this oversized format with its dull twin columns is hard to read, the trial coverage is confusing, and characters sometimes get lost in the tedium of the layout. But Gilmore had great material to work with, and aficionados of juvenile delinqueny and youth culture will certainly want to seek this out.

This book is a job well done, and fits right up there on the shelf with the Classics of True Crime.

Howard Sounes' new Bukowski biography is much better than Cherkovski's BUKOWSKI: A LIFE, or Steve Richmond's self-serving SPINNING OFF BUKOWSKI; but it's still not great. He does dispel some of the Bukowski mythology (which Bukowski himself was the main promoter of) that has grown over the years. Unfortunately, he dwells too much on Bukowski's sex life, which can be read about in two fat Bukowski books (in every Bukowski book really) WOMEN and LOVE IS A DOG FROM HELL. This would be a good introduction for the uninitiated, but for Buk fanatics it's nothing new. Try Gay Brewer's wonderful CHARLES BUKOWSKI, for a more in depth (though somewhat academic) look at what Bukowski is important for: HIS WRITING! And for Bukowski's publishing history the forthcoming DESCRIPTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE PRIMARY WORKS OF CHARLES BUKOWSKI by Aaron Krumhansl, will be indispensible.

I first discovered the work of Charles Bukowski approximately five years ago, and I was immediately impressed. The more I read the more I enjoyed. I had heard all the legendary tales, the horror stories and the millions of tales of drunken mania, but I purposely stayed away from reading anything ABOUT the man. I didn't want to be disappointed when the reality is often times a far cry from the truth.
Eventually I broke down and bought this book, simply because the countless stories of his life were really becoming too much, and I wanted to know a little more about the man. If at all possible, from an independent observer who was not a Bukowski crony. I think this book accomplishes the task of being a reasonably detached look at the life of a complicated individual, with a few complaints.
First, the author obviously fell in love with Bukowski during this book (or perhaps before he even wrote it), and it shows constantly. There are admitted mistakes in his life, but the real warts are brushed over rather quickly.
Second, the book felt rushed. I think the book would have been much better if the author took his time and wrote a comprehensive 500-700 page book, which he obviously could have done. There are more than enough things to write about. Whole accounts of his womanizing and his time with the LA Free Press are just glanced over. I think it cheated the reader
Lastly, the author quickly passes over the interpersonal relationships Bukowski formed and spoke almost exclusively of events. Events don't tell us the whole story, and what he did write about the relationships was shallow at best. Linda King was the only one who had any depth added. The lack of interpersonal discussions really failed to bring out the third dimension in this book, and it fell a little flat.
The good thing for the author is that he writes well, and thankfully, Charles Bukowski is an interesting subject. I find it hard to believe anyone could really make his life boring. So the book is worth reading, especially if you are like me and don't know much about the man, but if you do I think the reader might find this a bit overly simplistic.

If I could have I would have rated this a 3.5 star book. Because I like Bukowski's work, I will round up. I am huge fan of biographies and this just isn't one of the better ones.

Here's a story kiddies, please bear with me:

Years ago I was a struggling, naive graduate student in English at a major southern university. Like a fool, I decided to write a master's thesis on Charles Bukowski. The department chair stuck me with a professor who was supposedly the resident expert on contemporary American literature. From our first conversation it was clear that the man not only had no respect for Buk, but hated his work and hated the very notion that anyone would want to do graduate level work on him. He dismissed the idea with a sniff, saying, "He's marginal and unworthy. No one has written a book on him." I am sad to report that I let the bastard get the better of me. The thesis went unwritten.

Well, that was a decade ago and since then there have been several very fine books written about Bukowski. Three excellent volumes come readily to mind: Neeli Cherkovski's seminal biography, "Bukowski: A Life"; Gay Brewer's Twayne volume, "Charles Bukowski"; and Russell Harrison's "Against the American Grain." All are top notch in their own way.

Now we have Howard Sounes' worthy addition to this list, "Charles Bukowski: Locked in the Arms of a Crazy Life." This new biography works well as a compliment to Cherkovski's more intimate work (Neeli and Hank were good friends and the closeness of their relationship informs every page of the text). Sounes' book is more flamboyant, to be sure, and paints Bukowski in darker colors than does Cherkovski's. Both portraits are quite valuable and, even more important, both are very good reads.

I'm still waiting, though, for the definitive Bukowski biography to emerge, a book that combines a true scholar's rigor with a novelist's eye for detail. Maybe some new English professor or graduate student coming up will grab for the brass ring. I can't help but think that our universities will finally forget their snobbery and small brained prejudices and hop on the Bukowski bandwagon.

What I would love to see published is a book that encompasses the pictures painted by Sounes, Cherkovski, Brewer and Harrison, with added chunks of personal grace and style thrown in by this to-be-named biographer. It's bound to happen some day because Bukowski's legacy is simply too daunting, too great to be ignored.

In the meantime, I recommend this book and all of the others I named above. There are other fine volumes on Buk out there, too. Go find them all and read them right away. You'll learn lots of cool stuff and be the life of your next cocktail party!