I am named after my aunt, a Red Cross nurse who was an Army nurse in World War II. I am also a nurse (and also a Red Cross nursing volunteer, although I have never worked full time for the organization), and a former officer in the Navy Nurse Corps. My speciality is international health; my work has taken me to some of the poorest and least developed places in the world. I have seen first-hand the work of the Red Cross in war zones and after natural disasters. I currently work in a human rights organization. I recently visited the ICRC Headquarters in Geneva, along with its spectacular museum.

All this is to say that I bring more than an casual perspective to this book--and it dazzled me. Despite its incredible length, it felt too short. Ms. Moorehead writes lucidly, compassionately, and well. Her research is scholarly, her documentation is meticulous, her compassion and her critical abilities are always evident. She rightfully praises the individual courage of the Red Cross founders and leaders (not only Dunant, the Swiss banker, but the other significant figures in Red Cross history, including the American nurse, Clara Barton, who founded the American Red Cross and pioneered its role in natural disasters).

But the book is not just an encomium to the good deeds of idealists. Moorehead is frank in her appraisals of the weaknesses and foibles of both the people and the organization itself. She examines the evolving role of the Red Cross, which began as an adjunct to the gentlemanly wars of the 19th century, grew to a worldwide relief agency in the unimaginable horrors of the 20th century and, most recently, has had to become a competitor for the world's glory in humantarian activities.

Most importantly, she examines the historical record and the ethical dilemnas of an organization which was founded on the Swiss principles of neutrality and quiet diplomacy and was then faced with atrocities in its own back yard: she provides a very careful appraisal of the role of the Red Cross during the WWII Holocaust. It is clear that the Red Cross as an organization provided too little aid to the victims of Nazis, gave it too late and perhaps gave it for the wrong reasons--publicity rather than compassion. (A horrendous, but little known, fact is that the physician who was appointed head of the German Red Cross by Hitler was behind the savage medical experimentation done in the camps. He committed suicide before he could be tried as a war criminal).

Nonetheless, Moorehead is unstinting in her admiration for those individual Red Cross delegates whose independent actions were able to save thousands of Jews and others. There were Red Cross delegates who raced along lines of Jews being forcibly marched to their deportation and death, desperately throwing them food and attempting to rescue anyone they could by bribing, cajoling or fooling the guards.

Moorehead depicts the failures and the multitudinous successes of the Red Cross, and includes enough individual tales and humor to make her account extraordinarily readable. Despite its failings in some arenas, I remain an overall admirer of the Red Cross itself, and I am an unabashed admirer of this book. "Dunant's Dream" can be read for its comprehensive and engrossing history, but readers interested in the larger diplomatic and ethical issues of international aid will find it invaluable. Absolutely recommended.

This book is not for the faint of heart. It is a hefty seven hundred page epic. However, I found the book spellbinding and finished reading it in less than three weeks time. I would especially recommend DUNANT'S DREAM to those interested in human rights or history. Caroline Morehead is a gifted writer who balances objectivity with revealing glimpses at the men and women who have made the International Committee of the Red Cross the premier human rights and relief agency in the world. I came away from Morehead's book with a clearer understanding of the complex circumstances involving humanitarianism during times of conflict and turmoil. I am sorry that this very worthwhile book is now out of print. However, I am glad that is available in libraries and through "out of print" dealers.

'LOST AND FOUND' is a very thorough biography of Heinrich Schliemann but the insightful discussion concerning "Priam's Treasure", post Schliemann's lifetime, would have been better suited for an extended newspaper editorial. The intricacies of Schliemann's archaeological methodology are not explained adequately and that is a shame. Moorehead mentions Schliemann's innovative use of ceramic analysis (potsherds) but fails to adequately define how revolutionary and important it was at the time. Moorehead does a great job explaining how Schliemann's initial foray into archaeology resembled the work of grave robber. If you are interested in Heinrich Schliemann the man, then read this book... now. But, if you are interested in the evolution of 19th century archaeology or in-depth archaeological validation of the Trojan War, then there are much better books on the subject. A good example of a better book on the latter two subjects is: 'FINDING THE WALLS TROY: FRANK CALVERT AND HEINRICH SCHLIEMANN AT HISARLIK', by Susan Allen.

Caroline Moorehead's Lost and Found (the 9,000 Treasures of Troy, Heinrich Schliemann and the Gold That Got Away) is basically a biography of Schliemann with a long epilogue tracing the travels of the gold from Troy in the twentienth century, taking in its journeys through Nazi Germany and, ultimately, Soviet Russia. This section of the book is fascinating but the real meat is the story of Schliemann himself. The author can be a bit of an apologist for Schliemann but considering the vitriol that has been heaped on him in his own time and the following decades, a little defense is not inappropriate. The story is well told and quite exciting. Schliemann may be a hard subject to like but he is always fascinating to read about and this book tells his story very well. A short, interesting read for those with any interest in the peculiarities of nineteenth century archeology.

The amount of treasure looted durning World War II was staggering. Moorehead describes convoys of 150 trucks, trains and wagonloads of Europe's artworks carried to and from Germany by avaricious politicians and soldiers alike. The damage done is enormous, but at some point, the description of the cost in human life in Berlin alone eclipses the loss of artworks. As a treasure story, it needs more. As a bio of Schliemann it presents an interesting man, and possibly the greatest catalyst for archeological discovery.