In 1812 And All That: A Concise History Of Music From 30,000 BC To The Millennium, classical music composer, conductor, and musician Lawrence Leonard takes a fascinating, unique, irreverent, funny and strangely informative survey of music history. He examines such off-beat and entertaining questions as to why Glinka's "Russian & Ludmilla Overture" is suitable for boiling eggs, and why Mozart's overture to "The Magic Flute" is not; how Haydn's wife influenced the development of the sonata form; the position held by the camel in Italian opera; and why Stravinsky's "The Rite of Spring" is so loud; and much, much more! 1812 And All That is enthusiastically recommended reading for anyone who ever sat in an audience or performed upon a stage!

I don't know if I should call myself lucky or not by actually having the author (Behren) of this book as my Writing 2 teacher. All I can say is that this book is okay (just okay.. no better and no worse), but Mr. Behren is certainly not a good teacher. Anyway, this review is about the book not the author. All I can say is that I'm reselling this book back to the bookstore!! I certainly don't want to keep this one!

This cut down by more than half the time it has taken my students to learn to write summaries, integrate sources, understand argument, and write syntheses.

Many of the readings are also interesting and productive, especially those on Folklore and Obedience to Authority. I'd teach it in combination with a course reader, though, since there's almost no attention to the process of helping students find their voice and write more beautiful prose.

But no one book can do everything, and I plan to keep teaching this one. My students like it too -- with its focus on arguable ideas and the wonderful step-by-step breakdown of the writing process.

I'm glad I didn't miss this book. So many literary works seem to contain some vengeance or spite, but this is the first work of criticism that I've come across which studies the constant of revenge across a number of authors.

The betrayals described in the book are extreme, and include a homosexual husband writing of his bride's "frigidity" while the two are still on their honeymoon. The book is not for the young or squeamish reader, as Desalvo describes in detail some bizarrely depraved acts committed by adults upon the chidren in their care. There were a few letters from an incestuous grandmother that I found quite disturbing, and would prefer to have skipped.

This is a type of book I never thought I would encounter - an absolutely captivating work of literary criticism. I couldn't put it down.

This is the traditional and wonderful story of a two children and their discovery of a system of minature canals and railways and the little people who run them. The Railwaymen and Canal Folk are continually fighting and the unusual setting adds to this little extraordinary story of an adventure that could never happen to you . . .

IRONIC AND FUNNY (AN I CAN READ)READER. OLDER IS USUALLY BETTER. IT'S CUTE AND IT'S ANOTHER GOOD BOY BOOK. THESE OLDER BOOKS ARE JUST BETTER FOR THE OLD FASHIONED FAMILIES AND MOST HOMESCHOOLERS THAT I KNOW. THE MYSTERY WAS SOLVED, BY THE WAY.

I had no trouble reading Lady Chatterley's Lover, but I did indeed have trouble reading The Man Who Died. It is gross and blasphemous. D. H. Lawrence must have been mad when he wrote this. His tuberculosis was sure getting at him.

The book, which is a novella, was about Christ's resurrection. He discovers that men are put on earth to have sex with women. And He Himself takes part in this heathen notion.

I was insulted when I read this. Christians and non-Christians alike will agree that this book is not worth reading.

This is D.H. Lawrence at his hobby horse again. He gives a portrayal of the risen Jesus after the crucifixion who is tired of life . . . weary of it all, with the life force at an all-time low. What can save him? Sex, of course. What else? It's the same old song-and-dance. Lawrence seems to think that the answer to all of life's problems is sexual union, which makes about as much sense to me as regarding vegetable curry as the meaning of life. Sex has it's place, to be sure, but I don't understand the primacy that Lawrence ascribes to it in each and every one of his novels. In certain instances, sex can revive a sense of purpose or ebbing energy, but it cannot and will not aid anyone in a sense of world-weariness. If attempted it will just be like trying to give live into a dead horse. It would probably only make one feel all the more disgusted with existence rather than giving one a sense of rejuvenation, as Sartre so adequately demonstrates in his "Nausea". All, in all, i felt the whole attempt was kind of silly. The Christians will get mad, the Lawrencians will love it, but it is really just another testimony to one man's inability to make sense of live in anyway other than genital terms.

The first time that I read this story was close to 10 years ago and it was coupled with another short titled, "Bryn Mawr" (sp). Being a fan of Kazantzakis, I was immedeiatly drawn into this speculative account. I couldn't put it down even when it ended. The best of this style and subject.