Tom Stoppard is by far the greatest dramatist of our time and his words flesh this out. His true genius is unknown to him and can only be discovered by seeing great productions of Arcadia, Hapgood, or Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead--but his words, in this matchlessly edited volume of interviews, reveal how these plays have come about. The book is funny, fascinating, and exhaustively researched. Delaney managed to unearth some interviews that otherwise would have been as lost to history as Thomasina's waltz.

Aptly edited by the collective efforts of T.M. Charles-Edwards, Morfydd M. Owen, and Paul Russell, The Welsh King And His Court is a massive compendium of essays filled with meticulous discourse of the Welsh royal household and the governmental roles of those officers charged with upkeep of horses, sleeping quarters, meals, etc. Primary source texts are presented in English translation, and the essays are written at a college reading level. The Welsh King And His Court is a scholarly text that combines deep thought with multi-level analysis of historical politics. An intriguing and recommended historical study, with a very helpful glossary, abbreviation list and index.

Every reader knows of authors who were all the rage when they were alive and publishing, only to be forgotten or relegated to obscurity upon their death, if not before. They disappear for decades or generations, admired or consulted by those few who read in specialized fields; or they are the subject of intermittent articles in this or that journal. Thanks to the Internet they can be seen shimmering, a sort of astral projection, on web sites and list-serves with spotty attendances. In these venues situated on rural roads in the republic of letters they are argued with, championed, held up as the acme of what's misbegotten, or pegged as simply typical of a period. For fans, bitter consolation lies in their man or woman being reviled, as such shrill attention does indicate that the core of the oeuvre has not ceased to be dynamic, and perhaps threatening.

Occasionally authors have risen from the dust of library shelves, which is the closest we can now get to witnessing the Phoenix. These rescued figures become the product of cottage industries, but a well-timed nod from hollywood can escalate their reputations and swell their audience. Many of the latest literary finds are those whose work means something quite particular to current audiences - at times, but not in all cases, a retro chic - comprising enthusiasts, popular authors in a position to repay literary debts, scholars who have revisited past figures in search of their postmodern 'nowness,' and because of groundswells of curiosity from disparate parts. There is a lovely unpredictability in the resurgence of these artists which fosters hope in those whose favourite choice has not yet bounced back into the limelight. (In an attempt at a shove back onto the stage, see my Amazon review of Lewis' _Rude Assignment_.)

It is unlikely that Wyndham Lewis will ever again receive the attention, negative or positive, that his paintings and writings garnered during his lifetime, yet if any critical work of recent years could restore his dented reputation and, more fruitfully, bring his ideas back into view for a fresh examination, then it is this book by Paul Edwards.

In his combination of literary analysis and art criticism Edwards writes with economy, clarity, intelligence and sensitivity about Lewis' paintings, drawings, short fictions, novels and a mass of philosophically-minded and politically generated essays and speculative works. One realizes that Lewis, perhaps the most probing Modernist in the anglo-united statesian family, left no major concern of the 20th century ignored, even if only to swipe at it with pen and brush. It is to Edwards' credit that he maintains a focus on his subject's wide-ranging thoughts and positions, especially as they are transformed with the passing of time and as events, historical and personal, transform Lewis.

Certain aspects of this book call for special commendation: the examination of _Tarr_, Lewis' first novel; the analyses of _Time and Western Man_ , the central non-fiction work of Lewis' writings, and of _The Human Age_, his last fiction; and the constant engagement with the art works. Art criticism is often written in an abstract and coded way, and academic criticism is often larded with unnecessary polysyllabic constructions, but a key benefit of Edwards' style is that one can argue with his conclusions or suggested interpretations because he has made himself understood. There is no dancing with words, or playfulness in a deconstructionist sense, to obscure his points.

In the aftermath of this book it was instructive, in a disappointing way, to read a review by irish novelist John Banville of _The Crisis of Reason: European Thought, 1848-1914_, written by J.W. Burrow, which appeared in _The New York Review of Books_ (October 4, 2001, pp.38-40). On p.40 Banville responds to what Burrow says about Nietzsche:

"[...] There is a study to be made of the influence on modernism of Nietzsche's thinking, which is insufficiently acknowledged even by the most philosophically-minded of the modernists - it is hard to recall, for instance, a single mention of Nietzsche's name anywhere in Eliot's prose criticism."

Banville is mistaken when he says Nietzsche was not regarded sufficiently by "the most philosophically-minded" modernists, for as Edwards makes plain throughout his almost 600-page book (not a page too long), Lewis engaged Nietzsche in a constant debate (and dealt with many others as well). Pointing out this error on Banville's part is not meant to cast a slur against him; it merely shows how far Lewis has sunk below the critical horizon.

The book's layout is very good. In most cases, when art work is discussed the painting or drawing is at hand without needless flipping through the book. While as a rule footnotes are preferable, in this instance the use of endnotes is justified.

This book has given far greater pleasure than many others recently. For those unfamiliar with Lewis it is an excellent primer; for those just stepping into his sea of words it is an invaluable guide; and for those who are well acquainted with Lewis' concerns and motifs there is much to deliberate on, and hopefully respond to, in Edwards' original findings and his engagement with other critics.

Paul Edwards deserves more laurels than he is likely to get for writing about an artist who is underrated, over-scorned, difficult, and not very likely to experience a surge in popular appreciation. He also merits praise for writing in a direct manner, tackling the contentious aspects of Lewis' life and works head on, for his generally even-handed treatment of others who write on Lewis, and the zest underlying every sentence. His discerning enthusiasm will urge a reader to read Lewis' books again, or for a first time. Not many academics or critics achieve that notable goal.

Terrific insight into W. B. Yeats and Ireland in the 30's. This book is steeped in extensive research by one who has spent a great deal of his own life studying the Poet, the Country and their times.

Paul Fussell, critic, memoirist, and sometime gadfly, produced in this book something rare: a work of contemporary literary criticism that's not only readable and comprehensible, but significant.

Fussell's thesis: The First World War -- the Great War, the War to End All Wars -- forever altered European and American consciousness, bringing major change to language, literature, other aspects of cultural memory. The massive, horrifying conflict laid waste to 19th-century innocence and incubated the irony and cynicism that has pervaded 20th-century letters, politics, and popular opinion.

Before the war, men could and did believe in gallantry, in battle as sport, and in idealized patriotism. After the British lost 400,000 dead in only four months at the Somme (known to the common soldier, Fussell notes, as "The Great Fuckup") irony became the dominant literary mode.

You cannot understand this book if you do not understand "irony" in its earlier sense, before it was rendered all but meaningless by overuse and misuse as a synonym for "coincidence." This is irony in the sense of the grave disjunction between expectations and reality.

Fussell read widely and with acute attentiveness for this book. His sources are not only the poems and memoirs of writers like Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sasson and Robert Fitzgerald, but newspapers, advertisements, military forms, and battlefield rumors and myths. For evidence of the decimation of the British army, he cites the lowering of the height standard for recruits in 1916; the army no longer had the luxury of accepting only tall volunteers.

Throughout, Fussell's prose is cogent and well argued. And he writes, thank God, in plain English, without the tiresome jargon and woozy thinking of postmodern academic critics.

I am the kind of history and war buff that loves to read straightforward war books: books about battles, generals, soldiers, tactics, blunders, strategies, weapons and so on. Having read a review of Fussell's book a few years ago and thinking it was another "straightforward" book about World War One, I added it to my Christmas list. I received it as a gift this year (along with about 6 other books, all novels) and I decided to browse it for fifteen minutes before diving into one of the novels. What struck me at first was that it was NOT a straightforward telling of WWI, and that if I had looked at the book in a bookstore I probably would have thought it "boring" and set it back on the shelf. You see, in this book there are no detailed accounts of the Somme or in-depth analysis of Ypres.

However, having book in hand, I was immediately drawn into Fussell's examination and analysis of literature, essays, poetry, letters home, theater and culture on the front and in England during WWI in order to paint a picture of the British soldiers' experience during WWI. It is a fascinating book on many levels and examines war, in this instance The Great War, from a completely different aspect than I have ever seen before. Fussell illuminates much more clearly what happened to the boys/men in the trenches than anything I have ever read before. For instance, has any other book captured so vividly the oppressiveness of being in a trench for days when all you see is a sliver of sky and the horrific irony of morning and evening stand-to's? I don't think I have read a book that made me sympathize and empathize with the WWI soldier more than this book. It is a deeply moving and touching book and really drives home the futility of war.

I know that this book will not appeal to everyone (as I said earlier, it probably wouldn't have appealed to me had I picked it up in a bookstore), but I believe that most people will find it fascinating if they just put their minds to it. Fussell's book will reward those seeking a deeper understanding of the WWI soldiers' experience.

In 1916 on the Western Front, in a single hour, a well-placed single machine gun could slaughter a thousand men rising up out of the trenches, as they did in wave after wave. Hundreds of books have been written about the Great War, and in recent years, there has been renewed, intense interest in what (in my opinion) remains the most significant event of the 20th century. None of these works is better, and few equal Paul Fussell's 1975 WAR AND MODERN MEMORY. This extraordinary, moving book focuses primarily on the letters, diaries, reports, memoirs and fiction of Englishmen who were in the trenches. Residing in the dusty archives of the Imperial War Museum, much of Fussell's source material had not been seen in more than half a century, and most of it had never been seen by historians. There is little in Fussell's book about the causes of World War I (pick any explanation that appeals to you: you may be right), its battles or its politics. Rather it's mostly about what the people involved, from soldier to office worker, thought and felt about the war - then and later. It's about how these thoughts and feelings were reflected in contemporary poetry and literature, and how they continue to resonate across the decades. And, the book also about irony - the irony of trying to "win" a war which could not be won and resulted only slaughter. The irony of honorable, tradition-enslaved generals who mindlessly continued the slaughter in full knowledge (albeit, rarely first hand) of what was occurring. The irony of officers living among rats and decomposing corpses in the trenches, yet able to arrange for the regular delivery of hampers of delicacies from Fortnum & Mason. The inexplicable irony that although wholly and self-evidently pointless, their was simply no way to stop the killing.

Paul McCartney has been my favorite musician for a long time now. His music has filled moments of my life with joy, anticipation, and wonder--al of the good things that we live for. I've had his tunes stuck in my head as I've walked through spring fields after it's been winter for a seemingly endless time. I've listened to his albums while going for drives on sunny mornings and felt the warm sunlight refracted through the windshield on my face.

Paul's music is also good for a rainy day when you can smell the wet dirt, or a foggy morning when your imagination starts to wander. Paul's music is wonderful. I always probably would have said that it's his sense of melody and chord structure that I really like.

But reading Paul's lyrics naked here, without the clothing of the music, I realize that I also really love the playfulness of the words themselves. This is a great book if you're a Beatles fan or a McCartney fan, because it'll make you come to the songs in a new way. You can see how inventive McCartney really is, not just musically, but also lyrically.

He paints with his words in much the same way that he paints with his music: in a colorful way, and when his mind is wandering, there he will go...

Great fun for any fan of music or poetry. If you like this book, you should also check out McCartney's recent book of his paintings. That one's really good, too.

Paul McCartney- true he is an Ex-Beatle, but he is also a wonderful poet and songwriter. By reading this book of poems and lyrics he has composed over the years, you will learn what it is really like to think like one of the biggest geniuses in the music business- next to John Lennon of course(who also has sensational books on the market). I would recommend this book to anyone who loves The Beatles, poetry, or both. It is certainly a book no one should live without.

When it comes to writing ballads, songs, or poems not alot of people can do it like Sir Paul McCartney.Paul has a away with words that can really make you think like no other.This is a book that is a great collection and portrayel of one of the best song-writing talents of our time.It is a must read for Bealtes' fans and music fans alike.

This lovely little book discusses the many aspects of elegant entertaining -- from perfect table setting, to eye-catching flower arrangements. Burrell's passages on entertaining and party planning are peppered with touching stories about his employment as former butler to Diana, Princess of Wales.

Burrell demonstrates his knowledge and class on each beautifully photographed page. No wonder he was held in such high regard by the royals!

A Few Notes:
- I would not call this an "Etiquette" book, as it deals much more with proper table setting and party planning. As such, I think it would be better labeled as an "Entertaining" book.

- The range of party/theme ideas is impressive. Some of Burrell's examples include a sit-down dinner, afternoon tea, and childrens' party.

- For those interested in the life of Princess Diana, this gives you a tasteful and telling behind-the-scenes look. Frankly, some of Burrell's Diana anecdotes were some of the best parts of the book...

Enjoy!

I have to say that at the beginning I didn't want to get the book but now I think that is one of the best books about etiquette I've ever bought, and I have lots of them.
The recipes are incredible and very easy to prepare.
The elegance and the exquisite taste is really unique, and the flower's centrepieces awesome, is something that anybody can do without a professional training.
I think is a MUST TO HAVE BOOK.

I love this book! The most fascinating facet about it involves a concept that many people forget : entertaining is just as important as your personal etiquette. While the book mainly focuses on your role as a host/hostess, it also includes some helpful tips on protocol. Paul Burrell is brilliant, not too posch in his approach to explaining the ways of how things should be done. The English Royal family has been setting the standard for years on social etiquette, and this book makes it possible for others to continue the legacy. The book also includes unique recipes and decorating ideas.

this isn't an exhaustive collection of sonnets, nor a serious study. it is simply what it is: a short collection of sonnets that can be purchased cheaply. there are many great sonnets not included and no contemporary sonnets. but it isn't meant to be anything more than what it is. and if you love the sonnet, it's a good collection.

A fine collection of sonnets, including many if not most of the most familiar ones. Eight from Shakespeare, four from E. Browning, four from Frost, four from Hopkins, four from Longfellow. For me at least, a more appealing collection than another I recently purchased.

I enjoyed this translation, and I recommend it to anyone unfamiliar with the plays. Its strength is that it is very easy to read in large part because Roche structured the lines as he felt they would have been spoken. He includes some interesting appendices on production, etc, and he has just the right number of footnotes to help us keep up, but not be slowed down.

My beef is that comparing it to other translations I have read is like comparing the clunky dumbed down modern translations of the Bible to the King James Version. Still, the language and the wisdom do sometimes soar together.

If tragedy is, as Aristotle described, the imitation (that is, representation) of great people whose downfall induces a sense of pity and fear in the audience, Sophocles's plays are exemplary illustrations of the genre. The Sophoclean hero suffers, agonizes, despairs because of cruel fate or, more likely, some mistake he or she has made as a result of a character flaw such as pride or anger. Thus the tragedy of "Ajax" is not only that the title character kills himself in shame over having lost out to Odysseus on being awarded Achilles's armor, the ownership of which would have been proof of his heroic deeds in battle, but that his shame might have been alleviated had he known that Odysseus greatly respected his heroism. Similarly, in "Antigone," Creon, king of Thebes, suffers the loss of his wife and son over his stubborn insistence to enforce a law founded on his pride.

Sophocles portrays "noble" sufferers too. In "Electra," the title heroine plots to kill her mother Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus, but she has a good reason -- revenge for killing her father Agamemnon and bounding her to a life of slavish submission. The title hero of "Philoctetes" is marooned on an island through no fault of his own, and furthermore becomes the target of trickery when Odysseus and Neoptolemus, Achilles's son, show up with the intent to obtain a magic bow in his possession which they need to win the Trojan War. Heracles's wife Deianeira, in "The Women in Trachis," catches her husband in the act of intended infidelity; her reaction is to send him a cloak she thinks is a talisman to keep him faithful to her, when in reality it is poisoned. That Electra's plans are fulfilled, Philoctetes receives sympathy, and Deianeira kills herself in grief shows the range of emotions that lead to the end of a Sophoclean tragedy.

The most masterful of these plays is "Oedipus the King," which seeks to maximize pity and fear in the audience by portraying some of the most tragic circumstances imaginable -- a hero who unknowingly kills his father and marries his mother as was prophesied, and then, to his horror, discovers their identities. Does Oedipus, like Deianeira, kill himself in grief? No, that would be too merciful. Instead, he gouges out his eyes in self-punishment and lives to continue suffering, as an abject vagrant in "Oedipus at Colonus."

In this Signet Classics edition, Paul Roche translates these plays in verse rather than prose, which preserves their poeticality, improves their clarity, and significantly increases the enjoyability of reading them. This is the perfect edition for getting acquainted with one of the great Greek dramatists.

If glibness can be elevated to greatness, then (as critics like to say), Muldoon has no peer. But that's a big "if". I picked up this volume based on a recent New York Times article where I read that (just in case you haven't heard yet) he is a Professor of Poetry at both Oxford and Princeton, having been inducted into the former at the tender age of 20. Surely, dear reader, you must know by now the unparalleled list of professorial poets produced by Oxford & Princeton? Need I name names?

I nevertheless like Pual Muldoon's poetry. I recommend it and it's fun to read, but his book of poems from 1968-1998 could hardly be considered a string of pearls.

What you will and won't get.

His is like snapshot poetry. Don't expect extended metaphor, conceits, or any overall development in the way of imagery or narrative. His is a quick wit and quick eye. Reading his poem is like setting fire to a box of matches. There's no smoldering pathos hear. His fire leaps from matchtip to matchtip, word to word, until the whole of it goes up in an exciting little burst of flames.

His poetry has been compared to Donne, but similarities are thin. For example, Donne was singularly known for the difficulty of his metrical writing. Expect no metrical daring from Muldoon. He doesn't write by numbers. Muldoon's difficulty can be summed up, I think, by this tidy comparison. Reading Muldoon is like listening to someone else's phone conversation. You will only ever hear half the conversation.

The earlier books in this collected poems are the most accessible and, in certain ways, the more enjoyable. You'll find those matchtip lines like: "Once you swallowed a radar-blip/of peyote/you were out of your tree..." This makes for fun reading.

The book "Madoc: A Mystery", however, dating from 1990 indulges in a stellar example of poetic onanism. Clearly, the writing of Madoc brought great pleasure to the author, but I personally doubt this book will mean much to anyone not having a fetish for erudite cleverness. Clearly, the Princetion professor Muldoon is having a long distance conversation with his Oxford counterpart. You will have to wiretap if you really want to get this stuff. For example:

"[Galen]
"It transpires that Bucephalus is even now
"pumping jet
"of spunk into the rowdy-dow-dow
"of some hoity-toity little skewbald jade."

Get it? If you do, this bud is for you.

The final book "Hay", is the best of them. Even if a portion of the poems strike one as little more than deliciously worded doggerel, the fun of Muldoon's wit evens the whole of it out. "I've upset the pail/in which my daughter had kept/her five-'No, six'-snails." Substitute "reader" for "daughter" and you get the idea.

By the way, did you know he was professor of poetry at Princeton AND Oxford???

I first encountered Paul Muldoon when he came to my university to give a reading and a seminar talk. When I picked up a photocopied packet of his poems and started to read through them, I was confused, then intrigued, then thrilled. When Muldoon arrived a few days later for the poetry reading and the seminar discussion, I was further impressed by this wonderful man, who has a deep understanding of poetry and language.

These poems are not "easy". Many of them require multiple readings to begin to understand them (although some are quite straightforward, but these are rare). However, Muldoon's use of language, his sense for sounds, his near-obsession with rhyme, and his inventiveness are qualities so far above most other contemporary poets that, well, what can I say? He's the real thing. Today, like Geoffrey Hill, he's very well regarded in the UK, and virtually unknown in the USA. This is tragic. A century from now, the names of Hill and Muldoon will be known, and most US poets will be forgotten - but that's another topic.

If you like difficult but beautiful poetry, pick this up. If you are into pretty easy, conversational verse that you can grasp from a first reading - stay away!

Forget Seamus Heaney, forget Galway Kinnell. Paul Muldoon is the thing. This is an excellent collection of his work. Click around here, find and read a couple of his poems, and you'll know.