Lisa Lewis's second book of poems,_Silent Treatment_, extends the belief-nonbelief conundrum at the heart of her previous collection. It also continues her earlier work of self-conscious and courageous reckoning with experience, body, and language.

I've always been engaged by the mixing, in Lewis's poems, of near oracular grace with sometimes ungainly everyday speech; by her peculiar balancing of irony, tenderness, and self-deprecation with fierce. . .well, with fierce *crabbiness*. The speaker in these poems, though thoroughly self-scrutinizing, is also a resister, a veritable warrior. And one of the things she seems intent on battling is silence. By silence I mean an ontological space, free and clear of language and the mind; the infamous "outside" or "center" which we still argue with and about. And I mean also the social silence which protects an abuser, any silence that conceals hypocrisy or harm, and the one so often imposed on those with little power over what gets heard. I've always been struck by how Lewis can just *say* certain things in her work, however tabooed they may be. Nearly every poem, in fact, happily violates some unacknowledged, consensus-enforced gag order. Every piece shakes us awake, sometimes gently, sometimes not.

She can say, for instance, that ". . .my students/Are stupid." In one sense, this is an astoundingly rude and crude acknowledgment of what every college teacher in America has surely (in at least one warranted or unwarranted, sacrilegious and punishable-by-death-or-loss-of-tenure moment of weariness and irritation), spoken or thought. "My students," she says, "[a]re stupid." But almost in the same instant in which the statement slams into the reader, it buzzes softly open with all its ironic over- and under-tones. It's an implicit and amusingly deadpan comment, for one thing, on our cherished but mostly unexamined view of teachers as angelic social martyrs. It's also an overtly provocative pronouncement that cannot help but bait someone -no doubt a student or two, no doubt a critic or two to battle, which, for Lewis, seems always preferrable to a life of submission; in this case, the grind of tenure-track teaching. And it's also overt finger-pointing, which, as it typically does in her work, rapidly results in the speaker's awareness of her *own* culpability: "I do what I can butnothing matters..."; "I wanted them to save the world"; "What they don't know is how pissed off I am/I can't just *be* them again,. . ." and so on. Admitting, after all, that one's students are stupid is inherently self-condemning, since it obviously suggests weakness on the part of the teacher. She can identify her strengths as well (she herself was a better student; she "only needed a little help, getting started") but she seems to feel that such strengths are mostly past, unrecoverable ("I can't just *be* them again"), and she is now helpless before the immense power of time, and the insidious glances of students who suspect their teacher is "full of s. . t." This is not a comfortable way to be. Lewis doesn't let anyone off the hook, least of all herself.

So this is a poet intent on looking the world and herself dead-on. Her poems insist on the hard, terrible, sometimes ridiculous reality of an essentially material universe. . . They seek out and try to know or "nail" the awkward social moment, the sexual embarrassment, the difficult memory in all its corporeality -only to find those things, ultimately, unknowable and unsayable.

A rape, for example, is not something which should ever be viewed as harmless or forgivable, especially, one would think, by a committed feminist (Lewis heads the Oklahoma chapter of NOW). In "Bogart," however, a description/nailing of such an event only leads to the revelation of its ambiguity and even, disturbingly, its possible harmlessness. (There are even moments of humor in the poem.) The rape is not, in the end, deemed funny or harmless, but the speaker does not arrive at such a conclusion easily. The process of writing poems, for her, is an affirmation of and engagement with *manners* (in Flannery O'Connor's sense of the word), even as she struggles with the *mystery* that very process unleashes. Language is a glass boat that keeps us above water, safe, bounded, and fixed while at the same time making present to us a vast, deadly, profoundly unfixed thing mere inches away making present, perhaps, the boat itself as that vast, deadly, profoundly unfixed thing. Or perhaps language in its practical and everyday functions creates the illusion of safety so that we may effectively be and act in the world--while language in its literary functions may reveal that illusion for what it is, reveal even the precariousness of language itself. (Literature as the antidote to language!)

For this poet, however, a better metaphor than the glass boat is, of course, the horse. Where would any good warrior be, after all, without one?. . .Poems, like horses, were "invented to bring us back to earth." But if one is brought back close enough to, or confronts deeply enough, that earth (body/memory/love; burdensome everyday life), what seems to be encountered are intolerable contradictions, a profusion of opposites: indulgence in self/erasure of self; talk/silence; isolation/communion; oblivion/godhead, and so on. All things simultaneously resisted and sought-for by this doomed and persistent poet, so intent on *speaking* what the world actually is. . .Language freed of intent, while nonetheless still profoundly grounded in, and grounding, a particular body and life and grammar and readiness and necessity and suffering and *judgment*--such is the language of literature, or at least Lisa Lewis'brand of literature

Lisa Lewis\222s second book of poems,_Silent Treatment_,extends the belief-nonbelief conundrum at the heart of her previouscollection. It also continues her earlier work of self-conscious and courageous reckoning with experience, body, and language.

I\222ve always been engaged by the mixing, in Lewis\222s poems, of near oracular grace with sometimes ungainly everyday speech; by her peculiar balancing of irony, tenderness, and self-deprecation with fierce. . .well, with fierce *crabbiness*. The speaker in these poems, though thoroughly self-scrutinizing, is also a resister, a veritable warrior. And one of the things she seems intent on battling is silence, especially when it conceals hypocrisy or harm. I\222ve always been struck by how she can just *say* certain things in her work, however tabooed they may be. Nearly every poem, in fact, happily violates some unacknowledged,consensus-enforced gag order. Every piece shakes us awake, sometimes gently, sometimes not.

She can say, for instance, that "my students/Are stupid." In one sense,this is an astoundingly rude and crude acknowledgment of what every college teacher in America has surely (in at least one warranted or unwarranted, sacrilegious and punishable-by-death-or-loss-of-tenure moment of weariness and irritation), spoken or thought. "My students," she says, "[a]re stupid."

But almost in the same instant in which the statement slams into the reader, it buzzes softly open with all its ironic over-and under-tones. It\222s an implicit and amusingly deadpan comment, for one thing, on our cherished but mostly unexamined view of teachers as angelic social martyrs. It\222s also an overtly provocative pronouncement that cannot help but bait someone\227no doubt a student or two, no doubt a critic or two\227to battle, which, for Lewis, is always preferrable to a life of submission; in this case, the grind of tenure-track teaching. And it\222s also overt finger-pointing, which, as it typically does in her work, rapidly results in the speaker\222s awareness of her *own* culpability: "I do what I can but nothing matters..."; "I wanted them to save the world"; "What they don\222t know is how pissed off I am/I can\222t just *be* them again,. . ." and so on. Admitting, after all, that one\222s students are stupid is inherently self-condemning, since it obviously suggests incompetence on the part of the teacher, whose job it is to make students less stupid. She can identify her strengths as well (she herself was a better student; she "only needed a little help, getting started") but she seems to feel that such strengths are mostly past, unrecoverable ("I can\222t just *be* them again"), and she is now helpless before the immense power of time, the autonomous flow of events in her life, and the insidious glances of students who suspect their teacher is "full of s. . t." This is not a comfortable way to be. Lewis doesn\222t let anyone off the hook, least of all herself.

So this is a poet intent on examining a flawed and brutal world--as well as her own complicity in that world--dead-on. Her poems insist on the hard, terrible, sometimes *ridiculous* reality of an essentially material universe. . . They seek out and try to know or "nail" the awkward social moment, the sexual embarrassment, the difficult memory in all its corporeality\227only to find those things,ultimately, unknowable and unsayable.

A rape, for example, is not something which should ever be viewed as harmless or forgivable, especially, one would think, by a committed feminist (last I heard, Lewis heads the Oklahoma chapter of NOW.) In "Bogart," however, a description/nailing of such an event only leads to the revelation of its ambiguity and even, disturbingly, its possible harmlessness. (There are even moments of humor in the poem.) The rape is not, in the end, deemed funny or harmless, but the speaker does not arrive at such a conclusion easily. The process of writing poems, for her, is an affirmation of and engagement with *manners* (in Flannery O\222Connor\222s sense of the word), even as she struggles with the *mystery* that very process unleashes. Language is a glass boat that keeps us above water, safe, bounded, and fixed\227while at the same time making present to us a vast, deadly, profoundly unfixed thing mere inches away\227making present, perhaps, the boat itself as that vast, deadly, profoundly unfixed thing. Or perhaps language in its practical and everyday functions creates the illusion of safety so that we may effectively be and act in the world--while language in its literary functions may reveal that illusion for what it is,reveal even the precariousness of language itself. (Literature as the antidote to to language!)

For this poet, however, a better metaphor than the glass boat is, of course, the horse. Where would any good warrior be, after all, without one?. . .

Poems, like horses, were "invented to bring us back to earth". But if one is brought back close enough to, or confronts deeply enough, that earth (body/memory/love; burdensome everyday life), what seems to be encountered are intolerable contradictions, a profusion of opposites: indulgence in self/erasure of self; talk/silence; isolation/communion; oblivion/godhead, and so on. All things simultaneously resisted and sought-for by this doomed and persistent poet, so intent on *speaking* what the world actually is...

Language freed of will and intentionality, while nonetheless still profoundly grounded in (and grounding) the particular human body and grammar and experience and readiness it requires for its very existence--such is the language of literature, or at least Lisa Lewis\222s brand of literature. It is what she says despite herself; it is what gets said despite language itself. Despite silence itself. It is what shakes both poet and reader awake to "sharply human woes."

And it is this book of funny, frightening, wise and accomplished poems.

Lisa Lewis's SILENT TREATMENT, chosen by Stanley Plumly aswinner of the National Poetry Series, interrogates and celebrates witha humor so real that it surprises itself: ". . . If I tried to be funny/ I couldn't be drowsy anymore, though sometimes/ I wake myself laughing. A strange laugh . . ." (Morning Snowfall) Hers is a deeply feminist, which is to say human, project, uncertain, self-accusing, ironic, wakeful of Luce Irigaray's sense of "the horror of nothing to see." I am frankly appalled that one online reviewer characterizes her as "spacey" and further advises "those who would study" with her to "take note" In fact, Lewis may be the best medicine for the workshop poem. In "Sexology" she says, "My student asked, How do I say in a poem I cried all night? I said,/ You can't. You have to make the reader cry all night instead. I was wrong." After this typical workshop interaction: " I tell my students, Don't talk about tears in a poem. That's what I was taught,/ I accepted the implicit wisdom. I knew why poems can't talk about tears." Then later: "We talk about poems as an economy. You can't talk about tears as payment./ You can't earn them. You can't talk about what they're worth. They're not" The poem itself does not accept "the implicit wisdom," the very disruptive, converging form. These poems refuse easy pedantry. They are first of all questioning, daringly excessive, ranging from slang to song to vision. They humiliate the drive by review which characterizes their ironies as "runaway," their people as "phony . . . stupid . . . young." They do investigate assumptions, often about women, even by women, such as the character in "The Fine Arts" who is "ashamed/ Of what her body can do . . ." who has "no words . . . even to her husband, even when he's/ Lying beside her in bed, witnessing whatever/ Matters to him." These are poems which matter, which disrupt a particular online sensibility "where people/ Like to have certain things but don't like to go far to get them."

Lisa Lewis is a wonderful poet, caring teacher, and attentive mentor. I'm blessed to have gotten the chance to work with her, and I definately recommend this book, which excels at re-thinking some of the basic elements of human nature.

Lisa Lewis' first collection of poems reads like the average third or fourth book- in voice and craft, it feels and sounds totally mature; it is a dark and unflattering world for a single woman out there, and these completely unsentimental, narrative- descriptive, long lined meditative poems tell it like it is-- they are frightening in their lack of illusion, or self-deception, or even emotion-- they record all the events of the speaker's and others' lives with fierce kind of objectoivity. These are smart, tough poems which give back in spades what the world dishes out. A rare collection. Lewsi' second collection is not, by the way, as strong, but this is a star. This is like reading the National Enquierer for real folk, told by the people who were there. Check it out, Mary.

The story was great. The computer illustrations were wonderful. Between the two, I just had to read part two of the series, and my children made me order part 3.

This was an excellent start to understand the gluten/casein free diet for children with autism and other special needs. The background information was a little complicated for people who are not in the medical field. However, the basic steps were concise and easy to follow. I especially like the recipes in the back of the book and use them often. There is also excellent resources and contact information in the book. These dietary interventions should be tried by every autistic person. It has changed my son (and my)life! Thank you Lisa Lewis!

I disagree tremendously with the negative review listed for this book. The author never implies the diet will work for everyone and is the sole therapeutic answer. In my opinion, if you are even THINKING of implementing a gluten-free, casein-free diet for your child, this book is a must. Not only does the author provide a thorough review of the literature & studies done on relevant treatments for autism, & defines many of the terms so readily used, she offers a ton of GREAT, KID-FRIENDLY recipes (great for ANY kids that need to be dairy- and gluten-free, regardless of the reason). The author presents the information without bias, allowing the reader to form their own conclusions whether the diet would be helpful. And while, yes, the diet may be difficult to implement (since casein and gluten are so pervasive in our foods), it offers a SAFE, alternative approach that we have seen work for MANY, MANY people in conjuction with other therapies. And as a medical professional, I was more skeptical than most that there could be any link with food & behavior before I heard and saw it for myself over and over and over first hand. If I had a child with autism I would CERTAINLY TRY this. I would have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I'm a professional who works with autistic kids, and I can tell you from experience that what works for one child will not necessarily work for another. Some children improve so dramatically with this diet, and especially with this diet and the drug nystatin, that I encourage all curious parents to try it. However, don't invest all your hopes in it, or stop other therapies, whether they be ABA, or anti-anxiety medications, when you try the diet.

Autistic behaviors as well as degree of expression fall across such a wide spectrum, that I have always believed no one single cause would ever be found. I believe however, that this diet, and the theory of casiomorphins, glutomorphins, and yeast overgrowth, is the answer to one type of autism.

This diet, and its history of discovery by persistent parents, is no less than another tale of Lorenzo's Oil.

The only drawback to this book is Lewis' personal story. She talks in such vague terms of her son's behaviors and "improvements," that the reader has no picture of what is happening, and whether it's dramatic enough really to credit the diet.

However, the diet, the recipes, the resources are brilliantly presented. Everything a parent needs to start and maintain the diet is here. You won't find yourself, wondering, doubting, or second guessing, because the coverage of the actual diet is quite clear and complete. I wish there were some kind of Pulitzer for reference books, because I would nominate this one.

Probably the best book there is on Father-Daughter incest. Highly recommended for all interested in the subject.

A very clear, concise and informative way of explaining the complex and sometimes perplexing issues around incest. Readers who may have found the complicity of the victim incomprehensible may find new insight here. The only flaw I found in the book was the box within which it was written. The text explains things within it's own universe, but the analysis isn't quite global enough to allow it's dynamic application in the chaos of the real world, where motivations, temptations, emotions, etc. can all tangle quite intricately to further confuse the issues involved. Still, a very, I would even say indispensible treatise on the subject.

As a text about the 'whys' and ways of incest, this is among the best. It explains why children go along with the parent, why they do not report it, and in some cases, may even want to continue the sexual relationship once it has begun. This is hard for some to understand, but you need to remember that a child will accept what they perceive as love from a parent any way they can get it. This is one of the best texts on incests that i have read.

This book is a classic meant to be read aloud. It's best when read to children as a bedtime story on a winter night. Try using different voices for the characters... children have a good time with this and so will you. And, usually, they will ask you to read the next story when you've finished. The next story, of course, is saved to be read tomorrow night.

I love this book, and loved it as a child, for the writing, the stories, and for the pictures which I could pore over again and again, looking for new details I missed previously. I have remembered and talked about many of the stories throughout my life, particularly The Cat Who Walks by Himself, and The Elephant's Child. I also like . . . oh, well, there are just too many to talk about. Read them for youself, and to your kids.

The stories are complex and mysterious and, though I can't say much for Kipling's politics, I find them delightful. I think most children will, too. As an adult, I couldn't get my mother to part with my childhood copy so I went out and bought one of my own.

A classic!

My grandmother bought this book for my three year old. We read the stories together at bedtime and enjoy them immensely. Rudyard Kipling wrote these stories for his young best beloved...don't wait to read them to yours!!!

Although this book has some good recipes, it isn't the book the first one is. Her first book had recipes that were much easier to cook and to adapt to your own child's needs (if they had any yeast problems or other allergies). This cook book is good but if you can only buy one, spend the money on the first one or on a Carol Fenster cookbook.

However, you need BOTH Special Diets for Special Kids and Special Diets for Special Kids II - both books go together!! The recipes in this book are great! GREAT HINTS TOO!

'The Adoring Audience' is a collection of essays by academics,journalists and other writers about fans, 'fandom' and fan behaviour. All articles shed light in one way or another on the phenomenon of fandom from a number of different persepctives: John Fiske writes about 'The Cultural Economy of Fandom'; Cheryl Cline looks at female rock 'n' roll fans; Lisa Lewis examines fan stories on film; and Joli Jensen alerts us to the dangers of dismissing ardent fans as 'pathological.' Both Elvis fans and 'Beatlemania' come under the microscope too. The articles are presented without apology or explanation or with any idea that there should be a cohesion of position across the entire volume (unless of course it is that 'fandom' is interesting!). As a result, a chapter which clearly 'pathologises' fans follows on from an article which states that it is unhelpful to do precisely that. There are many contradictions in the ideas in this book. I liked that. It really made you examine the arguments put forward more rigorously. I think I am only rating it a four star book because I don't really feel it is the 'last word' on this subject. It was a great place to start to think about fans and fandom, but at the end of it I did not feel as though the experience of being a fan and the taboos associated with fandom in society had been emptied of charge and meaning and mystery. I think perhaps my favourite chapter was Fred and Judy Vermorel's 'A Glimpse of the Fan Factory' - a collection of extracts from fan letters to celebrities like Kate Bush and David Bowie, excerpts from radio and television shows too - in which fans unguardedly write and speak their minds about their fan objects. Although some of the writers are clearly deeply disturbed and 'unusual' - and some bizarrely unselfconscious and naive - some of these letters have a curious beauty and power which is difficult to describe . . . little pieces of people's hearts and lives, sent out to the adored they will never meet. Amazing reading.

As a substitute teacher it is often difficult to gain and keep the students' attention. This book, Doodle Dandies is a great help! The illustrations and beautiful and vivid, adding much to the words on each page. As a teacher, this book can be used throughout an entire unit on poetry, and also can be used to integrate language arts skills such as creative writing and onomatoepia. This book is a great assest to any classroom library as well as one which can be read over and over again by parents (at home) and children.

I thought this book was a very good resource for teachers. It offers a brief biography with examples of experiences and interests that influenced the particular style of each artist featured. Each section is followed by questions intended to promote higher level thinking than simple identification of facts. Art activities are suggested that result in projects that resemble the style of each artist. Projects use media that are easy to obtain and work with. Students create their own art in the style of the artist rather than making a copy of something. At the end if the book there are additional resources and vocabulary lists. I think the material can be used for a variety of age-groups. The illustrations are in black and white. I would have given it a 5 if there were more illustrations of the artists' work.