Peter Taylor, whom William Du Bois, writing in the New York Times, proclaimed "a master of the short story form," was also a Pulitzer-prize winning novelist, a playwright, and sometimes poet who was numbered as one of the first generation of writers to make their living teaching writing.

Knowing what we know now, that Taylor would enter academia, it's interesting that upon his completion of studies at Kenyon College he wrote that he longed that "this limbo of a life could go on forever; I dread seeing the great real world again."

He would seldom have to for when he enrolled in Allen Tate's composition course at Southwestern College in Memphis he found instead entrée into an elite literary society when Tate and his wife, novelist Caroline Gordon, soon invited Taylor to dinner and into their world.

Taylor would go on to Louisiana State University for graduate studies, and when a number of his short stories were published in the Southern Review, he gained recognition in literary circles. Deciding graduate courses weren't his forte, Taylor soon resolved to return to Memphis since he was "starving for the sweet taste of gossip, absurd argumentation, intimate Sunday-night suppers, carousing evenings...and an occasional whiff of the rare, rank odor of Memphis High Society."

Unfortunately, McAlexander isn't able to provide us with much detail about such carousing and the book ends up reading like a busy social calendar.

Unable to avoid the draft as a conscientious objector, Taylor found himself involved in the Second World War much to his own chagrin, but it was in the army that he was given his first teaching position when he was assigned to teach American literature at an army school. After the war he took a job teaching at Woman's College (later the University of North Carolina at Greensboro) and soon thereafter Harcourt, Brace published Taylor's first collection of short stories, A Long Fourth and Other Stories.

At one point, Taylor confided to friend Tom White, "I now have 'tenure' in the teaching profession and can be fired only for a 'treasonable act' or for 'gross immorality.' What an awful situation for a man of my temperament to be in at [thirty-one]! The impulse to throw it all overboard grows stronger everyday."

He would avoid this impulse throughout his life. Perennially restless, he would change publishers, homes and colleges the way most of us change our shirts, eventually teaching at Indiana University, the University of Chicago, Kenyon College, Ohio State University, and Harvard, among others. His stories often first appeared in Kenyon Review, Sewanee Review, Harper's Bazaar and the New Yorker, while collections were published by a series of book publishers.

Notorious for missing deadlines (for classes and other teaching duties as well as writing assignments), Taylor - like most writers - was disheartened by critical reviews (As John Osborne once said, "Asking a writer what he thinks about negative reviews is like asking a lamppost what it feels about dogs!") and ashamed of some of his own works. After the opening of one of his plays, Tennessee Day, in Nashville, he confided to a fellow Memphian, "Finally I was so embarrassed that I just sneaked away into the night."

Despite his early apprehension about the teaching profession, Taylor would come to love the social opportunities it afforded him, while he exerted a profound influence on his students. Reflecting on his studies at Harvard under Taylor, James Thackara says, "Within the first few minutes of my first conference, the roles of professor and student were dropped. He must have known that I was a homicidal writer, that for me being a writer was a matter of life and death"; and commenting on Taylor's reading of Chekhov's "Gusev," Lawrence Reynolds conveys, "His voice created the story for me in a way my own reading had never done, he made it real, he made it matter."

Taylor was the consummate friend within his vast social circles (populated by Tate, Elizabeth Hardwick, Robert Lowell, John Crowe Ransom, Randall Jarell, and others), which would prove to be his greatest distraction from writing as he and his wife (poet Eleanor Ross Taylor) became legendary for the parties they gave.

In the real world, Taylor noticed the little things: a painting of a beautiful woman in a coffee shop, the waiter talking to himself, an anonymous man who's just realized the main seam in his coat has come undone. But other than a brief description from Brian Griffin (a former student who served for awhile as Taylor's typist), we gain little insight into how Taylor wrote, other than his determination to do so in the face of numerous rejections from the New Yorker and other publishers. Observing Taylor scribbling with a pencil in a notebook on a sofa, Griffin described Taylor's writing as "the unintelligible scrawl of a desperate man."

Eleanor was a devoted wife, offering her unfailing support - while the lives of those around them were in disarray, often marred by suicide - even though she and Peter were vastly different people; he an extrovert (described as ebullient), she an introvert and somewhat of a recluse (described as reticent). She described differences best herself in a poem entitled "Kitchen Fable" which appeared in the New Yorker, which ends with, "He dulled; he was a dull knife/ while she was, after all, a fork."

Late in life, Taylor was diagnosed with diabetes and suffered a series of debilitating strokes. He died in 1994 at the age of 77.

Of Taylor's novel, In the Tennessee Country, Alicia Metcalf Miller wrote in the Cleveland Plains Dealer, "under an extravagantly bland exterior, it seethes with anger, failure, and pain."

There are hints that her words would also seem apt in describing Taylor's life, but here we see little more than the "bland exterior."

Former Taylor students might enjoy this reverent biography.

See Robb Forman Dew, "Now Known as Peter Taylor," in The New York Times Book Review, Sunday, September 30, 2001, p. 10, and
Jonathan Yardley, "Peter Taylor," in The Washington Post Book World, Sunday September 30, 2001, p. 2.

A professor of English at UGA, Mr. McAlexander personally knew Mr. Taylor and edited "Conversations with" the writer and "Critical Essays on" his works before being given access to the papers in his widow's--poet Eleanor Ross Taylor's--possession. In the present volume, befitting his subject, the biographer gracefully weaves the history of 20th century American letters through the life and works of perhaps its most admired short story writer.

Man oh man, what a trial it was trying to get into this book. I'm normally a fan of surrealist writing (see my reviews of Breton's NADJA, Aragon's PARIS PEASANT and Carrington's THE HEARING TRUMPET) but TELEMACHUS seems to me to be a rather torturous exercise in literary gymnastics. I've been told that in this work Aragon pulls out all the stops as he uses every pun, metaphor and literary device available to rework and subvert French literary traditions. It doesn't seem to have come off too well in the translation though. The plot is very loosely based around the adventures of Telemachus, who is shipwrecked on a fantastical island with his androgynous Mentor. On the way he is tempted by the blandishments of Calypso and her nymphs. But that's about as much plot as you get. The narrative (if one can call it that) consists of sentences strung in a truly surrealist manner. Remember how the Parisian Surrealists were all enchanted by that one famous line by Lautreamont about the chance meeting of an umbrella and a sewing machine? Well, in this work Aragon takes these surrealist juxtapositions to the extreme. The result is initially surprising and one cannot doubt the startling beauty of some of the images originally afforded by this technique, but when the entire book is written in this fashion, it gets very hard indeed. Not a good introduction to surrealist writing at all--in fact, it really put me off. Read it if you absolutely MUST.

Aragon demonstrates his involvement in the Paris DADA scene with this excellent proto-Surrealist work. In the tradition of Alfred Jarry, he presents an utterly fantastic tale full of wonderful nonsense and absurd wit. That Surrealism arose from DADA is evident in his juxtaposing of unrelated ideas and use of automatic writing techniques (the latter of which produces an effect similar to Breton's Magnetic Fields). If you like the work of Jarry, Schwitters, Tzara, and the like, then you will probably enjoy this.

SCARED FOR LIFE! Porn queen runs to ex-husband as lover is taken in by Po-Po. I was all washed up and there was a relentless wave of phone calls upon me when I found this book. A treatise on parisian intellectual theatrics, these adventures are an unbelievable example of how utterly likable surrealist pretensions can be. It is sure to cheer you up (even cures minor ailments).

I wanted someone else's insight as to how they found God.

This book might be good, if I could understand it. I have a Bachelor of Science degree, but it is too intellectual for my taste, and I was rather good in English. At first I thought it sounded Shakesperean, and sure enough he quoted from Shakespeare later on. If you want a simple dialog, this is not the book for you. If you loved literature and Shakespeare in college, go for it. To quote one paragraph from the book: "The first step toward knowing who I am meant to be is to know who I am not meant to be. And it is this person, this false identity, whom I carry around for the greater part of my life under the mistaken conviction that this is I myself, the real me, who has to be repudiated.

It just wasn't for me. I was looking for something more personal.

This book is wonderful insight into the mind and soul of humanity. The subject matter is not something to be taken lightly. The title of this book sums it up very well: "How to Find God, And discover you true self in the process!" is a very spiritual book that has helped me to understand myself better than I've been able to. I am in my mid 20's with and had no problems understanding this book (I actually understand this book much better than I understand myself), but I have a strong Christian background and I could see this book as being confusing to someone who lacks this. Even so, I would recommend this book to everyone who seeks to know themselves. This book is so inspiring that I've had to read several pages again and again and simply marvel at how true and insightful are the author's words. Van Zeller (the author) was a Benedictine Monk I believe, and he was educated by the Benedictines in the early part of the 20th century. I am very excited to read more of his works. At times, he can be a little wordy, but there is no comparison to Shakespeare !! Much of the style is very straightforward and personal. Here is quote from the very beginning of Chapter 7, that is a favorite of mine: "It is a common mistake to confuse the virtue of religion with the love of God." A mistake that I've made several times in my own life. This doesn't sound like Neo-Shakespearean intellectualism to me. This is truly the voice of a good man who found God and himself.

Published in 1969, this is Aquin's second novel; it was awarded the Governor General's Award in 1969, but Aquin refused this on political grounds. The novel's plot revolves around the murder by a French-Canadian pharmacist of his English-Canadian lover; the story is as a whole generally an analogy of English-French relations at the time.

This is the best book on the history of climate, and is full of stories from the last 2000 years, as well as tree-ring data and much more.

You need to be very into the subject, however, as it is a thick book.

The material from the pre-historic period is weak (of course), and the discussion of future climate trends has been overtaken by recent events (the Greenhouse Effect).

Still, if you are seriously interested in the subject of long-term climate, this is THE book.

I am a consultant neurosurgeon and received a complimentary copy of this book through the local branch of Headway.

This is an interesting and noteworthy little book which considers, quite literally, life after head injury. The author has selected twenty case studies to demonstrate the problems that often confront survivors of severe brain injury after the acute situation has passed and rehabilitation is deemed complete. She provides an insight into the mental, physical and social frustrations that present after the initial hurdle of survival has been overcome. The examples used relate as much to the medical issues as to the logistical nightmares and to the (unfortunately) not too infrequent lack of knowledge of those caring professionally. The stories are brought to life by using direct quotations from the individuals themselves.

Although the descriptions used are rather simplistic they quite adequately bring to reality the horrific problems of coping, being understood and finding support that people may have in this situation. The effects on parents, siblings and on relationships in general are explored and elucidated for those who may not otherwise have any reason to understand these things.

I am not entirely certain who the intended readership is. Patients and their familes who have experienced these things first hand would not necessarily benefit although it is often helpful to know that someone else knows what is going on. It should certainly be made available to those who have occasion to care acutely, that they may better be able to answer some of the "what ifs" that seem never to be answered adequately at the time. With its brief bibliography it would also be useful starting point to those proposing a study on the subject.

Ideally I feel this short book should be compulsory reading for those charged with planning and implementing health care provision as it affects those suffering head injuries and their families. Although this review is written some years after the intial publication date, little has changed in the provision of support for this cinderella group of patients.

I was critical towards The Willow Tree, Selby's 1998 comeback, but compared to Waiting Period, it reads like Requiem For A Dream. After all, The Willow Tree still not only retained some of Selby's Naturalism, but also magnified the compassion that was always present in his work but was often somewhat difficult to see. And upon having read it, I thought that, its perceived weaknesses aside, perhaps Selby mark II, having spent twenty years in literary silence, would develop this kinder side further, that he hadn't lost the plot but merely changed it. Then I saw a blurb describing Waiting Period, learned that it tells the tale of a deranged veteran whose depression leads him to become a serial murderer, and became somewhat apprehensive, to say the least. Then I actually read the thing. Unfortunately, my fears were confirmed. Waiting Period is by far Selby's worst book. Crime And Punishment it definitely ain't.

Selby's style has not changed at all since Last Exit To Brooklyn came out in the sixties. That lack of quotation marks and that abundance of run-on sentences that made Requiem For A Dream seem so feverishly vital are now just motions to go through. Waiting Period's only accomplishment is to dilute it to a stream of broken thought fragments, depriving it of any power it still had. Selby even plagiarizes himself at times - that "cops and robbers" bit on page 185 is lifted straight from Selby's 1971 novel The Room, word for word, and those depressed rants at the beginning are mighty similar to some of the ones in the aforementioned novel. Except The Room, difficult and often vicious as it was, _never_, _ever_ demanded that the reader approve of its character - on the contrary, it was a portrait of self-abasement of the lowest kind, and made sure to underscore it.

Waiting Period, on the other hand, revels in it. Consider the fact that the main narrative - a stream-of-consciousness first-person monologue from the point of view of the main character - is occasionally interrupted with little paragraphs in italics that say things such as this: "Wonder upon wonder. The man is not only without fault, he is with virtue. His nobility brightens the night sky. Oh my son, my son, what joy you awaken in me and thus the world." (167) Then, a bit later, we get: "You are the aurora borealis of my life." (179) This delusional viciousness could have come from a Chuck Palahniuk novel; in fact, it's what fuels Palahniuk's entire career. It's bitterly ironic, since hacks like Palahniuk have made names for themselves aping, among other things, Selby's own The Room and The Demon. But you know how it goes - the student becomes the teacher, and they both ride home on the kindergarten bus. Or something. It occurred to me that these interludes were meant as some kind of Ironic Attack upon religion - the dedication ("To the Inquisition"! Oh, how _clever_!) seems to support this - but if so, it lacks any depth whatsoever. Much emphasis is placed on the fact that the murderer only murders those who "truly deserve" to die. Why - that's exactly like Raskolnikov, except without the whole point!

At its worst, the writing is not only derivative, but just plain bad. "Feel like any moment now I/ll be so focused on the process that I/ll become a part of it and just flow through the ether and become a part of every atom, every proton and quark and resonate through the Universe...all of it...all, all... ...Oh, what a sublime thought, to float free of the body and mind, just a pulse in space...but it would be _my_ pulse, _my_ awareness, awareness of freedom, free from the vice-like oppression that has crushed me all my life..." (36-7) Every quark, eh? Right. I never thought I'd live to see the day when Hubert Selby Jr. would start sounding like a chapter in a self-help booklet, but there it is, right before your eyes. Honestly, I found myself looking at the spine of the book to make sure that this was really written by Selby. I mean, for crying out loud, this is Hubert Selby! This man wrote not one, but two triumphs of Naturalism! This man was one of America's outlaw poets! What happened?

I don't recommend Waiting Period to anyone. Go read Selby's Requiem For A Dream. It's emotional, raging, dramatic and powerful, and it has much to say to you. All Waiting Period has to say is that it's over.

I have to admit, I was pulled into the plot by the hook - a guy wants to buy a gun to kill himself, but because of the waiting period, he ends up deciding to kill other people as well.

While there's more to the story than that simple one line, the writing is so labored it makes it hard to get through the novel. I have heard good things about Selby's writing (Last Exit to Brooklyn) but I now believe I should have started there. This was a turn off...

Selby is a poet who writes from experience. The experience is ugly - the poetry masterful. He lets his flag fly. That's a lot more than most others do. Read for yourself. Read all his books.

I read the book cover to cover. My impression is that this book contains exhaust and intake design information that was current in the 50's and '60s. Very little information for modern 4 or 5 valve per cylinder engines, and fuel injection tuned intake systems. No information on practical design of V8 performance exhaust system for street emmissions legal exhaust. Needs updated.

When my copy ofScientific Design of Exhaust & Intake Systems by John C. Morrison(Contributor), Philip Hubert Smith arrived I was quite excited. A scholarly text on intakes and exhaust! When I went to put it with others like it on my book shelf I realized that it was written by the same author that wrote The Design and Tuning of Competition Engines, Philip Smith. Both books are opaque, and aren't very logical when it comes to the flow of the explanations. There are lots of equations without explanation. It could use a rewrite.

I have designed race cars for years and I definitely recommend this book. I found information in this book that I have not seen published anywhere else. It explains how tri-y headers work. It explains the theory behind pulse tuning of exhaust and intakes. The intake pulse tuning is the basis of why Porsche created intake manifolds that effectively change between several intake runner lengths. These theories are even backed up by proven test results performed by engineers. There are even simple equations that are directly applicable to designing an intake or exhaust. This book is "old" but then so is the 4-stroke engine and although today's engines may seem "new" they are fundamentally the same as the "old" ones which makes the material in this book very worthwhile. If you want to know more than what intake or exhaust you should *buy* and are possibly thinking about creating your own intake or exhaust system, definitely buy this book. If you are looking for a book like this but even more technical, I suggest the 2 volumes titled "The Internal Combustion Engine in Theory and Practice" by Charles Fayette Taylor.

As a part of my AP lit course i plan to take this year, it was required that we read this in order to take the class and guarantee our seat frot hat year. Well, I wasted two days reading this book and I can appreciate that it may be some masterpiece.....but to who? Certainly not to me. I found the book boring and the main character's life was so unrealistic..i wanted 2 puke..its ok to make it exciting..but come on.... too much is too much

To all English teachers (Luann March, in particular): don't make your students sleep through a P.O.S. book like this. Taken at face value, the story has no substance; and it's just as poor when you dig for deeper meaning. Read something by Steinbeck instead--don't waste your time.

I've been reading anything I could find for over thirty years and Their Eyes is one of my top ten favorites. Janie's growth as an individual mirrors the emergence of all women's belief in their power and worth as human beings. The dialect can be daunting at first, but with a lttle effort you will soon be swept into this magnificent story. Set in Florida in the 1930's, Janie struggles to satisfy first her grandmother, and then the men in her life. When Teacake contracts rabies, forcing Janie to shoot him defending herdelf, the tragedy seems to overpower her life. Yet, Janie's courage and belief in herself bring a sense of peace to the ending. Bravo Hurston!

Arleigh Burke might have been a great Destroyerman, but there has got to be a better book than this one. It is not written as history, it seems more like a book written by a journalist weaving back and forth between boring background trivia of an antiquated style (it details how ship commanders met their future wives at Annapolis) and an inordinate amount of time promoting Commodore Burke as God's gift to Destroyer combat. The details of combat Pre-Burke around Guadalcanal are well written but short. There are no references to information gathered from Japanese sources. Indeed, by the time Burke gets to actually fight the enemy they are a worn out, demoralized bunch, constatnly under air attack and on the retreat down the Slot. This book makes no effort to balance its view of Burke's successful doctrine of ship combat with the affects of poor logistics, poor maintenance, poor leadership, and overwhelming air superiority on his Japanese adverseries which are surely important subjects even as background to the final battles of the Solomon's Campaign.