The book is small but is packed full of a lot of useful information. Kerr describes diverse aspects of the ancient Egyptian civilization featuring such topics as the division and farming of their land, the typical Egyptian family life, their houses and homes, the pharaoh's duties and his court, entertainment, religious beliefs including the afterlife, government and war, and the last Egyptian pyramid built. The inclusion of a concise description of the life of men, women, and children was a nice aspect of the book. Kerr explains that two of the main resons we know so much about life in ancient Egypt is because of the ancient Egyptian artifacts and writings of people who traveled through Egypt at that time. She also briefly explains techniques modern archaeologists use to try to preserve what remains of ancient Egypt. All of the colorful illustrations are clearly explained with small captions and complement the information presented in the easy to read text. The table of contents at the beginning and a glossary of fourteen useful words along with an index at the end are all included in the book. These useful tools help the reader to efficiently and effectively navigate the book. This is a great book with a wide variety of useful information and is written concisely using easy to read language. It would be an excellent resource to help students begin their studies about the ancient Egyptian civilization and possibly interest them into exploring more.

This is a factual account of the post war justice and subsequent imprisonment meeted out to a pro German (Nazi) businessman by the Soviets. But it is by no means simply an account of hardship and imprisonment suffered by a man who hoped to be apolitical but a haunting picture of how political situations interact with personal morality and family relationships to form a life. More than any other book that I have read this account asks What should a good man do? in situations in which all good men are endangered. This book, in my view, should have made JD Morley's reputation totally secure as a great writer.

It is difficult not to compare Morely's work to Jonathan Croall's altogether superior "John Gielgud: A Theatrical Life 1904-2000," which came out shortly before. "John Gielgud: The Authorized Biography" is decidedly inferior to the Croall book, although a interesting effort on its own merit. It does not have the depth of analysis of Croall's book (essentially skipping over Gielgud's relationship to his family, which Croall goes into in significant detail), as well as making numerous mistakes (saying, for instance, that Gielgud didn't play his first Shaw until doing the Preminger film of "Saint Joan" - forgetting that he played in both "Arms and the Man" and "Androcles & The Lion" at the Old Vic almost twenty years previously; or saying that Gielgud's 1974 Prospero was "his first full-length Shakespeare since 1958," forgetting that he played Othello in 1961. Another puzzling inconsistency was when Morely wrote that Donald Wolfit's hatred of Gielgud started when they did "Richard of Bordeaux" together in 1933, even though he'd already written that Wolfit was furious at Gielgud for allegedly having his Claudius cut down for the West End transfer of "Hamlet" in 1930. Morely also insisted that Gielgud won two Tony Awards for directing "Big Fish, Little Fish" and "Five Finger Excercise" (Gielgud was awarded for the former, but was even nominated for the latter; although Gielgud did win "Best Foreign Production" for "The Importance of Being Earnest" in 1947 and a special Tony for "The Ages of Man" in 1959.)

There are some surprising omissions as well, ignoring completely Gielgud's rivalry with Giles Isham when they were at the Old Vic in 1929/30, when at the offset it was assumed that Isham instead of Gielgud would play Hamlet.

Still, it's an interesting book that probably would have seemed better if I hadn't read Croall's first. He's very matter-of-fact about Gielgud's homosexuality, and uses his 1953 arrest as a focal point (as Croall does). Olivier comes off poorly in both books, although I would say that Morely has more patience with him than Croall seems to (in Croall's book, Olivier is depicted as a kind of antagonist, which I think gives his book more drama). I also think that Morely has a tendency to accept a lot of the Gielgud history at face value, whereas Croall thinks it through and considers the logic of a lot of it. The best example of this is the legendary story of Gielgud and Olivier swapping of roles of Romeo and Mercutio in 1936: Morely accepts that this gimmick was intended from the get-go, whereas Croall ponders (quite logically) that Gielgud and producer Binkie Beaumont were hedging their bets against Olivier's inexperience in Shakespeare at the time, and the role-swapping was agreed upon in case Olivier's reviews as Romeo were so disastrous that they would switch parts to keep the production from suffering. In view of the state of Olivier's career at the time (he had yet to even attempt a leading Shakespearean role on the professional stage), this makes infinitely more sense. Another example is the famous story that Gielgud went to Olivier after the latter opened in Hamlet and said "it's one of the most brilliant performances I've ever seen, but it's still my part." Morely reports it as though
he witnessed it, but Croall points out that not only did neither actor mention it in his autobiography and that Gielgud was actually in America when the comment was allegedly made, but such boasting was very out of character for Gielgud.

This is not to say that Morely's book is a wash. He does a fine job of talking about Gielgud's finances, and brings up the point that Ralph Richardson and Gielgud maintained a friendship despite the fact that Richardson was homophobic and openly uncomfortable with Gielgud's private life (a topic Croall doesn't mention, and indeed even Morely doesn't do much more than mention in passsing). Morely does blow it a lot, though - such as the famous anecdote where Gielgud goes to meet Richard Burton in the latter's dressing room after a performance of "Hamlet," and drops the brick "Why don't you come along when you're better...I mean ready?" Every time I've heard that story related (including Croall's book), it took place in 1953 when Burton played the part at the Old Vic, but Morely maintains that the exchange took place during the 1964 Broadway production. I think he booted it, and I think he does that a disconcertingly large amount of the time. He also has a tendency to bring himself into the narrative (a paragraph might begin with "John approached me about writing this book..."), which I find disconcerting.

"John Gielgud: The Authorized Biography" is a must-read for serious students of Gielgud's career, but Croall's book is the definitive study and should definitely be read first.

Sir John Gielgud was one of the great Shakespearean thespians of the twentieth century, although I unfortunately never saw him on stage where he was apparently at his best. Morley's biography is well-written and informative, but somehow lacks a certain spark.

It follows Gielgud from his childhood (from a family with several respected actors) to his early acting career, ascending from a skinny-legged boy to a much-respected actor, and then a knight and universally revered thespian. His arrest for soliciting a plainclothes policeman resulted in a reworking of laws on homosexuality. And he left behind an astonishing body of work, from a quiet man whose life essentially revolved around his work.

One of the unusual aspects of "John Gielgud: The Authorized Biography" is the respect that Morley has for Gielgud. He keeps his tone constantly respectful but not fannish. His handling of potentially sordid situations (the soliciting case) is always careful and respectful, a rarity in most biographies. His handling of Gielgud's homosexuality and its place in 1940s and 1950s England is particularly good. The attitude there and then was quite different from now. Some of the best actors today -- Ian McKellen being the most prominent -- are able to be openly gay, but then it was actually illegal. Morley does a good job describing the social and legal atmosphere at that time, through conversations, letters to the editors, the press's response, and the changes in the law. One slightly frustrating aspect of the book is the lack of presence of the Gielgud family -- when one of them popped back into the narrative, I found myself wondering, "Who is that again?"

Morley also offers insights into British theater and actors, including Gielgud's connections with Vivien Leigh, Lawrence Olivier, Ralph Richardson and Noel Coward. We get to hear the good and bad reviews, some from Gielgud himself, such as his disgust with his shoeless "Romeo" costume (though the picture of him in that play isn't bad). And (wow, another rarity) Morley lets us see some examples of Gielgud's undeniable wit. Though he seems to have put his foot in his mouth frequently, he had some great zingers: at one point he complained about a flatulent crew member by saying that he didn't mind dying, but must it be in a gas chamber?

What is lacking? Perhaps it's a greater sense of knowledge about what made Gielgud tick. Morley knew him, but he fails overall to really let the readers really know what he was like. I got bits and pieces of his personality -- his shyness, his wit, his intense love of acting -- but not a picture of the whole. Some of the dates and situations seem unreliable or debatable. That, and I found the pictures a little unsatisfying. I like it when professional and personal photos are balanced out; this book had almost entirely professional pics.

Gielgud was part of a golden generation of great actors, and had a certain quality that filled whatever stage or screen he was on. While "John Gielgud: The Authorized Biography" can't be called the best, it's certainly worth a look.

I read this book some time ago and very much enjoyed the first chapter. After that it went a bit flat, though I did manage to finish it. For readers interested in the world Morely explores here, I'd recommend Liza Dalby's "Geisha," or perhaps Ian Buruma's "Behind the Mask." Probably best of all is "Memoirs of a Geisha," which is set in the 'water trade' and quite an astonishing book.

I'm afraid this is a bit of a howler, but after reading this book, which I thought fine, I searched J.D. Morley's name on the web and discovered that he's the one who wrote the Memoirs of a Geisha review in the Sunday NYTimes several years ago that I still remember! It was a real howler. He didn't seem to understand that the translator's note at the beginning of the novel was PART of the novel, and in various ways completely missed the point of the book in a way that few people have. Now that I've read Pix from the Water Trade, I suspect it was a matter of jealousy, which is really kind of sad. So what do I think of this book? Adequate; not bad, really. But the author will probably be remembered best for his ungenerous and in fact rather boneheaded review of a much better book that will survive the ages.

As an introduction to Japan this novel is superlative. It reads as a collection of memoirs on the Japanese lifestyle bound by a loose but well-sketched narrative. It covers the life of an English cultural visitor to Japan in the early 1970s, detailing the elements of Japanese culture, attitude and character that particularly affect him during his stay. The narrative parts of it are quite entertaining but it is the insghts that this book provides that make this a valuable text for understanding the Japanese.

After muddling through the first 170 pages of this book, I had to give up. This book is written in the style of a schizophrenic stream-of-consciousness. Although the idea of a story based on the Persephone/Hades myth has potential, the overly descriptive and disjointed writing style make this novel more difficult to decipher than a college entrance exam. There are too many characters who are just kind of thrown into the pot, and none is either very interesting or apparently relevant. Although some images and settings are intriguing, character development and plot are sacrificed for excessive detail and crude sexual innuendo. There are three fools here: the author, the publisher and me.

The only other review on this book gave a rather harsh evaluation of this novel. I must admit that the book was pretty trying and slow-going at first (mainly due to the author's rollicking wordiness which is sometimes nonsensical, and a lot of obscure descriptive passages) but it picks up momentum and interest after a while. It's those kinds of books that slowly grows on you, and that keeps you persistently reading despite its idiosyncracies at times. I find this book hugely entertaining, and its plot and characters immensely funny. The author has a wonderful knack of stylistic timing, puncturing otherwise difficult and dense passages with a dose of high-voltage humor! I think serious literary students and teachers would find this book challenging - Bakthin's carnival theories would fit in snugly with this book. But an average reader would too, after of course, the initial 100 or so pages of establishing and deciphering the codes to reading and understanding this book. It's not a book one often chance upon, but its a book once read, would be forever savoured.