Containing thirty-two essays by the greatest archetypal critics, this is an excellent introduction to the possibilities of seeing literature in a new way: as directly related to the individual psyche. This view of literature and its human function reminds us of literature's roots in myth and, before that, religion itself. Also, it relates literature to the most important scientific efforts of the past two decades, the exponentially increasing understanding of the sub-conscious strata--including all genetic coding--of our human nature

Jungian Sandplay is a valuable contribution to the sandplay therapy literature. It is a very readable book and accesible to both the beginner and the experienced psychotherapist. Ryce-Menunin describes sandplay therapy while also sharing with the reader his opinions and clinical experience. The author does not limit himself to Jungian references. Quotes from Jung and Winnicott help bridge analytic and psychoanalytic perspectives in service of healing and development. This one hundred and twenty page book focuses on what is essential. Through word and image Ryce-Menuhin shows the reader how this non-verbal technique "can help patients express beyond words and before words the deepest archetypal images projected from the unconscious." Ryce-Menuhin surprises the reader by starting the book with an account of his first experience with sandplay. He tells that he was a depressed analysand when he "reluctantly entered the sandplay room and made the first sandplay with painstaking effort." The author also closes the book with a personal experience. The inclusion of this personal material helps the reader locate the author in the context of the short history of Sandplay. The second and third chapters are informative and I find them to be a good teaching resource. At the heart of the book are four case studies accompanied by thirty-three color photographs of sandplay scenes. The Story of Agnes describes the case of an adolescent girl who entered puberty when her parents divorced. Marie's case is about a woman grieving her sister's death. The Story of Clive is about a man with a history of traumatic childhood ego damage. The third section of the book includes the author's "controversial theory of the psyche as it maps into the sand." Diagrams of these "mappings" illustrate the author's findings. Through this theoretically and clinically sophisticated book, Ryce-Menuhin has made a valuable contribution to the study and clinical practice of sandplay therapy.

The semi-autobiographical format of this charming book makes it a must for any student of astrology, no matter their level of expertise. It is especially meaningful for those with an interest in Jungian depth psychology or the therapy process. It provides a wonderfully warm and humorous introduction to astrology without the common cookbook format which can be so exceedingly boring, yet can be enjoyed just as thoroughly by those with any level of astrological knowledge.

While in Monterey, MA visiting my in-laws, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Alice Howell was their neighbor. A meeting was arranged and I spent a delightful time sharing afternoon tea with her and being regaled with wonderful antecdotes that so reminded me of this favorite book of mine.

My own copy is well worn and profusely highlighted and I highly recommend it to anyone interested in a profoundly insightful and valuable addition to their astrological library.

As a beginning student of Astrology I have found this book invaluable. It explains the basics of the astrological signs in terms of their archetypal processes. Roger Woolger, Jungian Analyst says it far better than me --"A wise, enchanting and enriching book. Alice O. Howell makes the deeper meaning of the astrological archetypes alive and relevant as no one else can. Jung would have loved it!" If you want to understand the process of the signs this is the book.

Flaubert's stories are, with "Madame Bovary", his greatest creations. They show a style that was never before seen in French literature, a purity of expresion and depth of meaning, that will live forever.

This book is fantastic-an excellent documentation of one of the greatest composers of all time (if not THE greatest).

This collection of essays, by a wide range of contributors, adds considerably to our collective knowledge of Gustav Mahler, his life and times and the cultural milieu in which he worked as composer and conductor, and of course his music.

The editors, as they note in the Introduction, provided very loose guidelines to the contributing essayists: Beyond refereeing the broad topics for inclusion, the editors largely gave carte blanche to the contributors regarding style and content. This "looseness of control" has resulted in a volume of both very considerable strengths (some of which I highlight here) and a few perplexing weaknesses and oversights which I allude to at the end of my comments.

The "logical bookends" of this volume are an opening essay by Leon Botstein, titled "Gustav Mahler's Vienna," and a closing essay by Wilfrid Mellers, titled "Mahler and the Great Tradition: Then and Now." The former sets the cultural, socio-political and philosophical stage of fin-de-siècle Vienna onto which Mahler entered, and the latter nicely summarizes how Mahler might fit into a continuum of musical composition and practice that preceded and succeeded him. (This new paperback edition also includes. at the end, two new essays, not present in the hardback edition, covering recollections of his daughter, Anna, and recently discovered Mahler "juvenilia" in the form early chamber music and songs.) In between these bookends, all of Mahler's music, and much about his life and times, and how he and his music were accepted (or not accepted) inside and outside Vienna, are covered.

The essays regarding Mahler's music are largely - and splendidly - informative, and provide alternative insights into the music not necessarily covered by the well-known analyses of Theodor Adorno, Constantin Floros and Henry-Louis de La Grange. (Interestingly, many of the music-analysis contributors reference Adorno's "Mahler: A Musical Physiognomy." Perhaps Adorno's time has come as well, some 40 years after his writing this difficult-but-epiphanic work.) But at least three of them are (to me, anyway) frustratingly idiosyncratic. Peter Franklin's essay on the Third Symphony ("A Stranger's Story: Programmes, Politics, and Mahler's Third Symphony") is heavy on largely-irrelevant minutiae and very light on certain matters of true import, such as the significance of the final Adagio of the work. David Matthews' "The Sixth Symphony," by his choice, largely limits his comments to the two well-known areas of conjecture/dispute: the ordering of the two inner (Scherzo, Andante) movements and the matter of whether the final movement should have two hammer blows or three. (I am personally in agreement with both of his choices, but that is largely beside the point.) And Colin Matthews' "The Tenth Symphony" is largely a technical analysis of the available raw materials of the work left by Mahler for realization by others but very little about what interests most Mahlerites regarding this final work: A detailed comparison of the various "performing versions" or "realizations" that exist.

Among the many personal "resonances" for me are the following: A finely-crafted analysis of Mahler's "Opus 1," his "Das klagende Lied" (but absent the fact that a splendid recording of the 1997-discovered Ur-text score has been made by Kent Nagano); (finally) a musicological connection between Mahler and Hector Berlioz, by way of how the widely-separated octaves (of trombone pedal tones and high flutes) in the "Hostias" of the Berlioz Requiem might have influenced Mahler when he was composing the first "Nachtmusik" movement of his Seventh Symphony; and a fascinating footnote to the analysis of the final Adagio of the Ninth Symphony, where some apparently reliable documentation is provided for Mahler's awareness of the famous hymn, "Abide with Me," the tune that always comes to mind every time I listen to this gorgeous hymn-like passage.

Elsewhere (and scattered throughout various essays) are frequent allusions to certain parallels between Mahler and Charles Ives. (They both wrote "music about music," incorporated "vernacular" music in their works, were almost-simultaneous "polytonalists" and of course contemporaries. The matter of whether Mahler had been aware of the music of Ives is put more in the affirmative than I've seen heretofore; hopefully this is the result of recent research about which there is more to follow.) Similarly, there are frequent parallels drawn between Mahler and Dmitri Shostakovich; the case for Shostakovich being the logical (and most significant by far) successor to Mahler is well-drawn without overlooking the obvious differences between them.

There is an intriguing chapter on some not-so-obvious parallels between Mahler and Debussy (although the overt pentatonicism of "late" Mahler is made elsewhere, most obviously in the essay on "Das Lied von der Erde"). And, for me, one of the best contributions is by Edward R. Reilly, in his essay on "Mahler in America."

The volume is exceedingly well-annotated, with liberal footnotes (many, such as the "Abide with Me" one, of considerable length), and, at the back, a full bibliography of source materials, a detailed index of works, and a general index as well. Clearly, a lot of work (both scholarship and "routine editorial") has gone into the preparation of this valuable resource.

The book is not perfect in all respects, at least from my own personal point of view. Biographical details are not its strength, but there are the volumes by La Grange and Blaukopf & Blaukopf to compensate. (Nonetheless, I would have liked to have seen a contribution by Herta Blaukopf, who is as knowledgeable about Mahler's Vienna Conservatory period as any.) But, as I noted at the outset, its very considerable strengths greatly outweigh its relatively minor weaknesses. If you consider yourself a Mahlerite, this book belongs in your library, alongside your copies of Adorno, Blaukopf, Floros and La Grange.

A small book, but an excellent one insofar as practicality. For one beginning with alchemy (Or going through whatever spiritual path that causes changes within oneself) , it's a nice little guide to "What is happening? Why do I feel like this?" It works nicely as reassurance and confirmation through change, and also as a very basic primer on alchemy itself. Some steps appear to be missing, but as I said, it's a great book if you are searching for something basic.

This is a reprint of a house plan catalog from 1912. These books are actually exact reprints of original plan books from the turn of the century (1880-1925, roughly). Dover adds little or no modern explanations, just presenting the catalog as it was. So when one looks to review these books, one isn't really judging the modern-day publisher, or editing, or writing. The only modern element is the accuracy of reproduction- in some cases, if pages in the originals that Dover found are damaged or torn, that page is reproduced in the original with the tear, smudge, blot, or hole showing. So to judge the books, one has to compare each one to others of its kind, and then to decide whether the material in it is thorough and complete according to the standards of its time. Since there are several dozen of these catalogs published by Dover, we have the basis for such a comparison.

Stickley and the Craftsman school of design are well known. Many people own bungalows, or admire them even if they don't own them. What getting a book such as this does, is give a person insight into the details of the lifestyle of the time, of the philosophy of the architects/designers, and so on.

This particular plan book is one of my favorites. It includes an introductory essay by Stickley, an essay on "The Relation of Craftsman Architecture to Country Living," and several other pieces. "The House of the Democrat" by William L. Price is also included, a thoughtful essay which would give anyone pause when looking at today's McMansions. Price says that a house should not embarrass one's friends; it should be ample enough to contain them, simple enough to leave them unoppressed, and with enough artistry to please and lead them, if they wish, to build one likewise. This essay is worth the price of the book!

One of the features of this catalog is that along with the exterior view and floor plan of every house, there is an extensive written description. For many of the houses there are drawings of the interior, with suggestions for furnishings. There are also examples of what types of light fixtures one might use. There are several cement houses, a fad of the time which should have caught on more than it did, as it is an economical and sturdy material for building a house. The written descriptions, in some cases, even include alternate ways to finish the house to save money or to adapt it to a particular type of location. Most of the illustrations are drawings/paintings; there are a few photographs, but not many. The drawings of the interiors include wallpapers and curtains.

There are a few houses in the book without indoor bathrooms, which is not unusual for the period, but most have a full bath, and some have two bathrooms. Almost all have extensive built-ins: sideboards, bookcases, benches and settles, shelves.

There are a few plans for log houses, for summer camp houses, and even for rural schoolhouses. There's also a section on gardening and landscaping; one on pergolas, one on the details of concrete house construction, and one on how fireplaces work for heating and ventilation.

In sum: this is more than just a plan book; the only bad point is that if this is your first exposure to plan books, then the subsequent ones you read will seem plain and lacking by comparison. Definitely should be in the collection of anyone interested in turn-of-the-century architecture, restoring houses, or adm

For a very solid piece of research, the book is a surprisingly easy read and gripping. Beneath the text, the author subtly raises important social questions for our times. Reflected through the personal histories and theories of Freud, Jung, and Spielrein, Kerr reveals both what was novel and liberating in psychoanalysis (the centrality of sexuality) and what was constricting to the three of them (the practical need to be preoccupied with themselves and their various careers). In this, he raises a very contemporary issue: though love remains desired by all, it is deeply problematical in the face of our culture's particular need for self-preservation.