well researched book good biography. hope to see more detailed book on the same subject. craigavon should also be researched to see his important part in the crisus

A.T.Q. Stewart established his well deserved reputation as an objective, erudite scholar with this small book. Unlike many academic historians however,he also writes well. He treats his subject not as a sounding board for a trendy, modern "ism", but instead as an objective event in the past. He examines not only what happened, but why it happened. This volume examines the rise of Ulster Loyalist resistance to Irish Nationalist "Home Rule", which the Northern Irish Loyalists rightly saw as the short road to independence for Ireland from the Empire. Their threatened armed "rebellion" against the British government so as to (ironically) achieve their aim of remaining British, ultimately set in motion the events of 1916 and later 1968/69, which sadly continue up to this very evening. Stewart treats his subject dispassionatly and with great insight and detail. At the same time Stewart describes events almost as a jounalist would have done. One can almost see the gun runners unloading the rifles off the docks in the darkness from his narration. Ultimately, he also describes how the participants faired. The nascent U.V.F. marched off to meet their doom on the Somme. The peaceful Nationalists were ultimately politically outflanked by Sinn Fein who revolted in 1916, a mere six weeks before their counterparts went over the top in Flanders. The British Officers who threatened to resign at Curragh Barracks rather than enforce what they saw as an unpatriotic law, lost not only their lives but their world. In short, if you are interested in this aspect of British history, this is a book well worth having.

Of all the books I have read to prepare me for life in Canada, this is one of the most useful. It's a detailed yet never boring tale of the challenges the Liberals faced after sweeping to power in 1993 and is particularly good on the personalities and weaknesses of the chief protagonists

Trollope wrote this very short novel (only about 45,000 words) for the Christmas issue of a London magazine. Regarding Victorian sentimentality about the holiday as "humbug", he presented a very different sort of Yuletide tale, one in which there are no snow flakes and no sleigh bells - and in which fires are not cozy but frightening.

The hero is a prosperous young sheep rancher in Queensland, where December is the hottest, driest month of the year, when a careless match can spark a ruinous blaze and in a few hours wipe out all that a man has built through years of labor.

Careless matches are not the only danger. Harry has just as much fear of malicious ones. He is an imperious ruler of his domain (120,000 acres leased from the Crown) and prides himself on his unflinching candor. Not surprisingly, he is at feud with his shiftless, thieving neighbors, the Brownbie clan, and is quite willing to quarrel with Giles Medlicot, another neighbor, when Medlicot hires on a hand whom Harry has dismissed for insubordination and suspects of plotting arson.

In other Trollope novels, "war to the knife" means snubbing an enemy in the street or not inviting him to a garden party. In this one, conflict is simpler and more violent. With the grass growing more parched by the hour, Harry's enemies gather, scheme and strike. Because Trollope is not a tragedian, they are thwarted - narrowly - and there is even a Christmas dinner to conclude the story and incidentally seal a budding romance. But the pacing and atmosphere are very different from the Trollope that readers expect.

The picture of a frontier society, living almost in a Hobbesian "state of nature", is vivid, and the moral consequences of that state are clearly drawn. Harry's refusal to compromise with what he believes to be wrong is a principle that can be safely followed only where the structures of law and order offer shelter. Where a man must be his own constable, high principle is a dangerous luxury. The appearance of two colonial policemen at the end, as helpless to punish the malefactors as they were to forestall them, underlines the impotence of the law and perhaps reminded Trollope's audience of the excellence of their own social arrangements.

Alert members of that audience will perhaps have noticed that Queensland displays ironic inversions of English certitudes. Most notably, Harry leases his land and _therefore_ considers himself socially much above Medlicot, who has purchased his. In the home country, of course, a land owner who farmed his property (Medlicot is a sugar grower) would have looked severely down upon a man who kept livestock on rented pastures.

Unfortunately, despite its excellent qualities, "Harry Heathcote" suffers a defect that reduces it to the Trollopian second class (albeit that is no low place to be). In so short a work, nothing should be wasted, and too many words are wasted here on a perfunctory romance, one of the least interesting that Trollope ever devised. Medlicot's courtship of Harry's sister-in-law not only adds nothing to the narrative but is positively detrimental, as it gives the neighbor a self-interested motive for his decision to take Harry's side against the Brownbie conspiracy rather than maintain a "fair-minded" neutrality.

Anyone who has never read Trollope should not begin here, but the author's fans will not regret passing a few hours with him in the Australian bush.

This is a very good introduction to the most famous French baroque composers: Lully, Charpentier, Lalande, Couperin and Rameau. The book gives an account of each of the composers' lives, lists all their works and comments on their style and major achievements. It is easy to read and one quickly gets a basic overview. However, if you are interested in a deeper exploration of the composers' opus, you may find yourself wanting more details. In that case you may want to read "Marc-Antoine Charpentier" by Catherine Cessac for more information on Charpentier or "Jean Baptiste de Lully and his Tragedies Lyriques" by Joyce Newman. Both books are very informative and detailed.

This is the first book in Trollope's 6 part Barchester series. While the subject matter, the intrigues surrounding clerical life in a fictional English cathedral town, might put you off, don't let it. Trollope wrote fantastic characters. While it's sequel, Barchester Towers, is even better, this is an excellent short introduction both to the series and to Trollope's writing as a whole. (Incidentally, the BBC TV series `Barchester Chronicles' is a really good adaptation of both `The Warden' and `Barchester Towers'.)

This is a simple, short novel dealing with the ethical dilemma of a virtuous man. The Reverend Harding is the warden of a small home providing quarters for 12 retired, indigent workers. The facility is provided for by a trust set up by its founder over two hundred years ago. Income off the land provides revenue for the maintenance of the home and a living for the warden.. The warden has traditionally been the benefactor of this income which has increased over the years. The Rev. Harding is a gentle, honest man who has never given thought to his 800 pound annual revenue until a young reformer files suit, claiming the intent of the will is being violated. Harding thinks about the matter and is inclined to resign. The Bishop and Archdeacon argue that he is entitled to the income.

This book certainly would be a good one for a book club read and discussion. The reformer, the lawyers, the church hierarchy and Reverend Harding all have their views on the matter. Author Trollope does not really pass final judgment on his characters; none of them are cast in black and white terms. In fact Trollope makes the unusual move of bringing a criticism of both the press and Charles Dickens into the novel. The press makes strident value judgments about issues without bothering itself with all the facts or considering the effect their articles will have on the people involved; Charles Dickens treats people as being all good or all bad. Indeed, I found myself arguing with myself for several days after reading The Warden. What should the Rev. Harding done? Was the issue shrouded in shades of gray, or was it clear cut one way or the other?

Many critics consider this to be one of Trollope's lesser works, yet to me it is a very interesting, valuable presentation of an ethical dilemma. And for readers who are reluctant to pick up Victorian novels because of their common 700+ page lengths, this is a little gem at less than 300 pages. Criticism? Well I did a bit of eye-rolling during some of the melodramatic passages. All and all, though, this is an excellent read. From an historical standpoint there was considerable attention being paid to clergy income during this period in England. Trollope's tale was very timely in this regard.

One final note. There are many outstanding Victorian novels that I would give a five star rating to. This book doesn't quite fit into that hall of fame so I have given it just 4 stars, which shouldn't be interpreted as a slight to Mr. Trollope or The Warden.

I first read Anthony Trollope's book "The Warden" in 1995 at the age of 54; three years later I had finished all forty-seven Trollope novels, his autobiography, and most of his short stories. "The Warden" provides a necessary introduction to the Barsetshire Novels, which, in turn, provide a marvelous introduction to rural Victorian society, and its religious, political, and social underpinnings. However, "The Warden" is a small literary masterpiece of its own, even though the more popular "Barchester Towers" tends to obscure it. "The Warden" moves slowly, of course, but so did Victorian England; soon the reader is enveloped in a rich world of brilliantly created characters: in the moral dilemma of a charming and innocent man, Reverend Septimus Harding, who is probably the most beloved of all Trollope's characters; in the connivings of Archdeacon Grantly, who will become a significant force in the later Barsetshire novels; in Eleanor, an example of the perfect Victorian woman, a type that appears in many of Trollope's subsequent novels; and in the sanctimonious meddling of John Bold, whose crusade for fairness throws the town into turmoil. In modern terminology, "The Warden" is a "good read" for those readers with patience, a love of 19th century England, and an appreciation of literary style. Trollope's sentences have a truly musical cadence. "The Warden" was Trollope's fourth novel and his first truly successful one. It provides a strong introduction to the other five novels of the Barsetshire series, where the reader will meet a group of fascinating characters, including the Mrs. Proudie (one of Trollope's finest creations), the Reverend Obadiah Slope, and the Grantly family. The reader will soon find that Trollope's well-developed characters soon become "friends," and that the small cathedral town of Barchester becomes a very familiar and fascinating world in itself. It is a wonderful trip through these six novels. (I read all six in about three weeks.) But one must begin with "The Warden." Brew a cup of tea, toast a scone on a quiet evening, and begin the wonderful voyage through Trollope's charming Barchester. When you have finished the six novels, you may, like me, want to commence reading the Palliser series (another six novels) and follow Plantagenet and Glencora Palliser through their triumphs and travails! However, that remains another story.

At first this book may seem like it is about the adult use of spanking, corporal punishment and flagellation but what it is really about is a look at how society views such behaviors. The problem with this approach is that the argument becomes tied up in questions of childhood abuse and institutional correction. While I was impressed with the variety and number of historical literature Anthony uses, he does not show why human beings today are interested in these topics. The evidence he cites is almost always historical, about children, or about comic pop cultural references in modern England. There is nothing in this book that says that adult spanking, CP or flagellation is indeed seen as a "vilified vice" because he does not look at that issue. Attempts to describe why people are interested in these activities have no grounding in current reallife practice only passages from historical lierature. This book really needs to be spun as an historical investigation instead of an attempt to make CP, spanking and flagellation between adults understandable.

British popular culture chronicler Anthony examines the flagellatory impulse (the "English Vice") in thoughtful, scholarly fashion from several viewpoints: as media frisson, as deplored form of academic and domestic discipline, and as sexual fillip between consenting adults.

Drawing on a vast array of historical and literary sources, he traces the roots of recreational flagellation to the archetypal roles and scenarios it delights in recreating. Sadomasochistic erotica is plumbed for its most potent school masters, slave masters, governesses, wicked stepmothers, and uncles from hell.

_Thy Rod and Staff_ shines as both passionately argued defense and superbly researched survey. From _Harriet Marwood, Governess_ to _The Spencer Spanking Plan_, from Rousseau to the Spanner case, it abounds equally in good parts and food for thought.

Includes footnotes, select bibliography, index and 16 pages of illustrations from 800 AD to the twentieth century.

The first thing to tell you about this book is to tell you what it isn't. Firstly, this is NOT a work of erotic fiction. To be sure, this book includes many short excerpts from historical erotic texts, but they are always used to back up the arguments of the author. Secondly, this book is NOT a clinical analysis of flagellation. The theories of Havelock Ellis, Krafft-Ebing and yes, Freud, are discussed in one brief chapter, but the work of psycho-analysts do not dominate this book.

Instead, this book is a rational, journalistic investigation into the human flagellatory impulse. It also sets itself apart from every other book on this subject by avoiding any knee-jerk prejudices and refusing to condemn "this filthy vice" outright. The author keeps an open mind, and seeks to understand, rather than to judge. "I do not regard the flagellatory impulse per se as disgusting" says Anthony. "[The] purpose of this book is to offer another, rather more benign, certainly broader, view of flagellation." In pursuit of this aim, Anthony's approach is to break his book into three parts:

Part One tackles "this filthy vice" head on. Anything bad that has ever been said about flagellation is found here. Anthony briefly outlines the history of flagellation and demonstrates why this topic is still taboo in mainstream society. Although Anthony applauds the abolition of corporal punishment in schools, he makes a very convincing (and rational) case for "reasonable and judicious" corporal punishment of children in the home. After a brief clinical chapter in which the author gives the nod to the theories of Ellis, he outlines the use of flagellation in modern and historical literature. Part one of "Thy Rod and Staff" is an illuminating and enlightening read.

In Part Two, Anthony tackles the major issue - erotic flagellation. Here, the author gets down to the specifics of what flagellants actually do. The various male and female "dominant" personas (The No Nonsense Lover, The Governess), the scenarios in which they operate, the implements and costumes they use - and how all of the above combine to make up a flagellatory encounter, are discussed. If you are so inclined, yes, you will find the various erotic excerpts here sexually arousing. This excellent part of the book is full of hints for those couples who wish to indulge in flagellatory practices. Far from being an act of giving and receiving pain, Anthony demonstrates that in reality, erotic flagellation is a form of love.

Finally, Part Three attempts to set the deeds of flagellants against society as a whole. Anthony argues here that we are all being fed a diet of sadistic material by our mass media, and despite the fact that mainstream society is, in many ways "sadomasochistic," flagellants will continue to remain one of the scapegoats for western society's ills. Anthony rightly considers this a tragedy, especially when you consider that "What flagellants actually do is easily enough stated: they smack each other's bottoms."

My only criticism of this book is the occasionally gaseous prose. Anthony's book employs some grandiose terminology here and there, but fortunately, it does not detract from the central message in his writing.

This book also comes with an extensive bibliography of flagellatory sources, as well as footnotes. There are also a collection of well chosen illustrations which document the use of flagellation throughout history. Taken as a whole, this is a learned, rational and humane book. It is essential reading for everyone with a serious interest in this topic. One can only hope that Anthony's plea for tolerance is taken up by other authors.

This book relays the Story of Susan B. Anthony with great detail. I was amazed with the history of Susan B. Anthony and her battle. The author includes actual newspaper quotes from the time of Susan B. Anthony. I would recommend this book as a research tool for the life of Susan B. Anthony.

I've always been pretty interested in serial killers, and naturally came across Ed Gein's name in a few "collections" of serial killer biographies. Wandering through the bookstore oneday, I picked up "Ed Gein: Psycho." That's what it says on the cover. Inside, it's called "Ed Gein: Psycho!" The exclamation mark tells you all you probably need to know about the mentality of Paul Anthony Woods, the "author" of this self-loving piece of garbage.

Many, many reviewers already have pointed out the things that turn one's stomach about this book. The writing is sophomoric and ridiculous, and way, way, WAY too much liberty is taken with the story, which, ideally, is non-fiction. The imagined conversations, thoughts, and feelings of Ed that the author relays are ridiculous, and the tone of the book is really grating. I mean, Ed Gein was a really odd duck who did some really creepy and bad things, but he's a person of some note. To read Woods refer to him as "our boy" in certain passages makes me angry. The cavalier style with which it is written is really smarmy, and one can imagine Woods sitting at his typewriter, smiling at his own wit, patting himself on the back.

Beyond the incredibly obnoxious way in which the book is written (and trust me folks, the author's skills are far below that of the average writer who gets published) and the silly "conversations" between Ed and his fellow Wisconsonians (who, in the book, have a kind of...gulp...southern drawl?), there is the fact that no new information is presented, and I didn't learn anything I didn't already know from reading 10 or 15 pages in another book. And the last part, where the author "examines" the pop-culture that has been created around the Gein legend only confirmed my suspicions throughout the rest of the book...he's just a silly, pseudo-psychologist fan with no respect for his elders.

Pass!

Any book about Ed Gein, the infamous Wisconsin cannibal, is bound to contain some distasteful material. What is particularly galling about this book is the camp way that it is written. We get a retelling of Ed's exploits and then how Gein has influenced pop culture, with a cult of "Geinophiles" arising in books, comic books, music and movies.

The author takes great liberties in telling us Gein's story, inserting thoughts that no one could be sure were ever part of what happened. The list of what cops found when they went into Gein's farmhouse is truly nauseating, and there are some pretty sick pictures in the book as well, including one showing Gein's last victim, gutted and hanging from a hook.

This is not to say that there aren't some good factoids in the book. Who knew that Anton LeVay, the founder of the Church of Satan, actually helped interview Gein and supposedly could do a perfect impression of Gein? It's also neat to see Gein's death certificate, which is included in the book.

I think this book should have been marketed as more of a pop culture reference guide. As a true account of what really happened, look somewhere else.

I bought this book because I thought it would give me more details about weirdo serial killer Ed Gein, after I had read Deviant by Harold Schector. I was sorely disappointed. Psycho doesn't really go extensively into more facts about this interesting man and I firmly believe that Deviant does. This book is too short. The final chapters rave on about the movies,songs and comics they made about him and even though that has some indirect relationship to the man, I mean really... what does it have to do with Ed Gein? Ed Gein was probably unaware that any movies were being made about him while he was in the institution and he certainly wasn't like the Zodiac Killer; he didn't care.
The story is that Ed Gein was raised by a strictly religious mother, Augusta Gein and an apathetic father who took to drinking heavily to escape his mundane existence. Ed Gein idolized his mother, like his brother too but Edward Theodore Gein was more of a momma's boy.
Ed's brother Henry dies in a fire and there is suspicion that Ed had something to do with it but there is no proof.
Later, when Ed's mother dies, after his father, Ed takes to grave-robbing and wearing human faces as masks over his face.Not to mention he makes furniture out of human skin. Ed denies that he has sexual intercourse with these corpses because they smell too bad but who knows?
After Ed dies in 1984 of respiratory illness, he becomes a hero.Maybe we are living in a sick society where a murderer of two, possibly three women is considered a hero.
I recommend Deviant by Harold Schector. Avoid this one.