An excellent translation and commentary. This book should be ranked with commentaries of yoga masters such as McAfee's "Beyond the Siddhis" and Satchidananda's "Yoga Sutras", as one of the best books available on Patanjali's sutras. It is well written, focused, easily understood and goes to the core of the sutras - self understanding, with great insight. Shearer has done a great job.

This is one of my favourite Hardy novels. As some others have noted, it's not one of the "big 5" but certainly worth reading. Hardy's descriptions of the woodlands are beautiful, and I found the ending to be one of his most unpredictable. I wouldn't recommend reading it if you are feeling down, as the ending is sooooo wonderfully tragic (hehe), or if you're not a fan of Hardy's prose style, but otherwise it's a wonderful read. Very personal as well. I got the feeling it was written just for me :)

This novel has received less attention in the U.S. than some of Hardy's other works, such an The Mayor Of Casterbridge, w ith its theme of the individual in tragic conflict with fate. The Woodlanders dwells on the needless sufferings and unhappiness brought on by class privelege. This is a subject always sure to raise suspicions of membership in the Khmer Rouge or the North Korean Secret Police here in the holyland of capitalism. But it is a beautiful work of art. Henry James and Jacques Barzun sneered at it because of its attacks on the upper classes. But that is a mark in its favor. Anything opposed by those two must be on the side of progress and human emancipation.

Unlike some of Hardy's other classic works, such as The Mayor of Casterbridge, with its theme of "the individual" against "fate," The Woodlanders has received little attention in this country. Perhaps that is because it deals so strongly with the themes of class privelege and class conflict, usually associated in this holy land of capitalism with the Khmer Rouge and Stalin. But it is a magnificent and rewarding work of art. Jacques Barzun and Henry James sneered at it because of its hostile treatment of the upper classes, but that is a mark in its favor. Anything opposed by those two must stand for progress and human emancipation.

James H. Merrell has selected a specific topic for his book, Into the American Woods (Negotiations on the Pennsylvania Frontier). He looks at the go-betweens (both Indian and colonial) who did the negotiating in colonial Pennsylvania. The narrowness of this specific topic is deceptive as the go-betweens were from two worlds and through them can be glimpsed a piece of history much bigger than themselves. It is ultimately a sad story for the Indians as the Pennsylvania frontier of the title keeps moving north and westward until by the end of the book there seem to be virtually no Indians left in Penn's Woods despite, and often because of, all the negotiating between the two groups. The characters who comprise the book are an interesting and little understood assortment and this is thorough and informative study of these men (and a very, very few women). An interesting place to begin looking at a clash of cultures through the times they tried to come together.

The boundary that separated the territory of Pennsylvania's Indians and colonists indicated more than just a physical change in the landscape. The vast stretches of forest and mountain that encompassed the Pennsylvania woods designated a spiritual transformation between the colonial frontier and what Europeans considered the "hideous and desolate lands." The woods' edge marked the difference between order and disorder, darkness and light, and for many colonists it was a forbidding domain where the peoples and creatures were shunned. Likewise, for Indians, the margin between the Pennsylvania woods and what colonists haughtily termed "the inhabited parts," marked the divide between their world and one of mistrust and apprehension. Although there were overlapping notions among Indians and colonists about where the woods began and ended, both groups thought the darkness of that territory to be strange and unpredictable.

In his book, Into the American Woods: Negotiators on the Pennsylvania Frontier, James Merrell explains the role and purpose of the individuals who straddled the divide between woods and clearing. More than that, these go-betweens, asserts Merrell, stood straddling Indian and colonial cultures in order to mediate a number of negotiations, land disputes, trade issues, and the occasional murder. Merrell's comprehensive discussion of the role of the cultural broker in colonial Pennsylvania during the "Long Peace" from 1680 to 1750 unravels not only the mystery behind eighteenth century frontier diplomacy, but also the curious life of the go-between. He takes the reader across that threshold between Indian and white ground in order to enter in and examine the frontier. It is his attempt to discover what it was like for the go-between to be the link between Indian and colonist, and to obtain a richer, fuller, and more colorful picture of the early American scene.

At the outset of his work, Merrell stresses the complexities involved with defining the go-between; picking them out of the crowd in America's border country can be difficult work for historians. Thus, the strength of this work lies in Merrell's ability to define nearly every aspect of the frontier experience, and pick the brain of Pennsylvania's go-betweens. He contends that not every trader, missionary, or convert was a go-between. Moreover, a role in state affairs did not necessarily give one the credentials that would distinguish him from the common man. Canasatego, an Onondaga, summed it up vividly, with a hint of sarcasm, when he explained to Pennsylvania officials in 1742 that negotiator Conrad Weiser "has wore out his shoes in our messages, and has dirty'd his clothes by being amongst us, so that he is as nasty as an Indian." Merrell expands on Canasatego's idea by explaining that the role of go-between entailed a certain amount of dirty work, both figuratively and literally; once the trip was made across unforgiving terrain to reach the far side of the frontier, the traveler still had the passage into another culture to look forward to. Merrell explains that the go-between was a shadowy figure that carried the letters but did not sign and seal them; who memorized the speeches inscribed on wampum belts, but did not draft them; who translated, but did hold the floor at councils. Essentially, this complex and necessary figure stood between the tables crowded with colonial and Indian officials to make sure that the liquor and talk flowed freely, but did not join the feast. A behind-the-scenes character, the go-between is not a figure of the past whose position in colonial society is easy to uncover.

In order to facilitate this laborious task of assessing the life and role of the cultural broker, Merrell chose to tap into a source that, he alleges, few scholars choose to probe. The numerous volumes of treaty minutes recorded for every official interaction between Indians and colonists reveal in great detail the demands placed upon the go-between. Every formal proceeding required an intermediary to perform a multitude of tasks, and in these documented accounts, Merrell has managed to illustrate the role of the go-between after a careful inspection of these sources. Also, in chronicling the life of the Pennsylvania frontier, Merrell does not take the conventional approach to telling history; his book takes on an unconventional role because he is dealing with exceptional characters. He starts and ends the book with what he calls woodslore, to offer a fresh view of historical sites and instances that might otherwise be common knowledge to the reader. While telling the stories of Jack Armstrong's murder in 1744 and concluding with the killing of Young Seneca George in 1769, Merrell systematically interweaves discussions about the recruitment of negotiators, their travels, talks, and treaties. By recounting the rough texture and gritty feel of the colonial frontier, Merrell proves himself to be an authority on the topic.

No detail is left out of this work, and no stone goes unturned throughout Merrell's journey into the minds and duties of the go-between. His argument is both convincing and original, his prose innovative and direct. More compelling is his approach to telling the history of Pennsylvania's frontier diplomats as pivotal players on the frontier who are often excluded from conventional historiography. Merrell tells the story from both sides of the council fire, on behalf of both Indians and colonists uniformly. Into the American Woods is not only a fascinating read, but also a fundamental and comprehensive resource for those investigating the role of the cultural broker.

This is a great read!

James Merrell explores the unique role that the "go-between" played in relations between Pennsylvania and the Native American nations in the early 18th century.

Forgotten people, like Andrew Montour and Conrad Weiser, come alive in this carefully documented, captivating account. Merrell traces how, notwithstanding the diplomatic efforts of the "go-betweens" of 18th century Pennsylvania, relations deteriorated from William Penn's "long peace" to the bloodiest conflicts to ever occur on the American frontier.

As I write this review, I am listening to news accounts of the NATO bombing of Belgrade, Yugoslavia. James Merrell says:

"Studying how negotiators handled the first two crises teaches valuable lessons in frontier brinkmanship --- not the deadly modern game of threats and bluffs hurled while teetering on the edge of a precipice, but an earlier version, where people tried to pull their world back from the abyss."

Into the American Woods appeals on a number of levels: to the student of American history as well as to the citizen seeking to understand a better way of diplomacy at the end of the 20th century.

Best of all, it is a "ripping good yarn," colorful and enchanting --- the type of book that you don't put down until early tomorrow morning.

This is a catalog for a show currently at San Francisco MOMA, launched in Chicago last year. (Weston came from Illinois and did most of his work in California.) It is essentially a re-edition of Weston's My Camera On Point Lobos, published in 1951 and again in 1968. The major change is text by David Travis replacing excerpts from Weston's daybooks in the original.

The text is intended to humanize someone who is mostly mythical by describing and interpreting events in the last years of his life at Point Lobos. It presents the author's analysis of Weston's career, state of mind and the evolution of his late style. There is little or no new material here and the analysis is strained, but thoughtful.

There are some intelligent comparisons presented of Weston's late and early views of the same subject. As a collection this is not a good introduction to Weston. It is a good final chapter to the Daybooks and a beautiful collection of reproductions. It is also a good companion to Ansel Adams at 100, showing how these two friends viewed many of the same subjects so differently. It would be a good addition to reading Charis Wilson's Through Another Lens, showing many pictures of domestic life including Weston's children, cats, and many of Charis Wilson. There is a lot of "inside baseball" here, both explicit and implied.

There is at least one important image in the show that is not in the catalog and there are many important omissions from the show itself, which make this a poor place to start studying Weston's work. For the record, both Weston and Adams experimented with color in the late 40s, shooting the same images in color and black and white. The color images aren't good but they are a very good way to show why their respective monochrome images are so strong.

It is worth repeating that while the printed images are as good as any you'll see, they are not even close to the 8X10 contact prints in the show. This really matters in Weston's work. If you have a chance to see the San Francisco show, before it is put away for another 10 years, you will also see additional earlier prints from SFMOMA's outstanding permanent collection which put the theme of the show into context that is missing from the book.

This is Weston when he was only satisfying his own search for meaning, not making statements or presenting his vision to the world. These are his final meditations and he knew it. They are by far his richest and most abstract work and worthy of a lot of study.

Edward Weston was one of the most squirelly, yet most talented photographers in the history of the medium - he rarely smiled, wore women's clothes, never learned to drive, married a woman 30 years his junior, lived in a shack in Carmel and loved philandering with Tina Modotti and others. He died with $300 in the bank in 1958, yet his photograph of a Circus Tent went at auction a few years ago for $266,000. His influence on photography and photographers was immense. Two of his four sons, Brett and Cole, became accomplished image makers and his grandson now carries on that same tradition, even living in the same shack on Wildcat Hill in Carmel. This book covers roughly the last 10 years of his photographs 1938-1948. The images are superbly produced and well-chosen but the text was a bit overbearing and heavy on the theory that in the last years Weston was overly concerned with death which was represented in his images. Certainly his images of Point Lobos are a bit dark and morose with pictures of dead trees and pelicans, but that's Point Lobos! During this period he also made whimsical images of his wife wearing a gas mask in the nude and playing a flute while a cat looks on with a surprised glance. Weston was full of LIFE, not death. Thirty years before his death in 1958 he made an image of a corpse at a time when his relationship with his future wife was rosy and he was spending time with his beloved sons. His final work does not seem any more concerned with death than it was in his earlier years. But, forget the text! Photography books are similar to Playboy magazines anyway - we buy them to look at the pictures, not read the text!! This is a terrific book and I can't wait to view the actual images at The Art Institute of Chicago.

A finely printed book that features more than the regular images that every other book has. The essay is a very worthwhile read. It offers wonderful insites to the photogrpaher at the end of his working career.A real must to any Weston colection of books.

This audiobook is an excellent addition to the U.S. history-buff's glove compartment. There are basically four tapes of interviews by Roger Mudd done for the History Channel. Mudd asks questions to the featured historians and they respond with stories and factoids to keep you thinking. I can listen to them many times and still learn things that I didn't catch the last time around. This is also a great way to brush up on your U.S. history while enriching what you already know.

This is the very best audio tape I've ever listened to. While some interviews are better (Stephen Ambrose) than others (Richard White), each one offers important insight and perspective on the most important events of our time. Through the eyes of these men, our nation's history is told so clearly and succinctly, and with such passion, that you can't help but be changed and moved by the experience. I guarantee you'll come away with a better grasp of who we are and where we're headed as a nation.

From startup to INC 500 to FORTUNE 500, this book is a good first step in identifying what other pieces of information are needed to move up the ladder. Feels like a bird checking out the economic landscape. When you need to descend to the ground, this book will help you find which spot you have missed. Quite valuable as an entrepreneurial roadmap!

Jim Wood's book is for every person who has considered, is considering, or should consider taking themselves and their business above and beyond. Wood approaches the topic of "how to grow" as if he and you were sitting next to one another on an airplane. Casually talking about his experiences, all the while drawing you in to details only someone who has "been there, done that" can do. Read this book and expand your business and personal horizons. -- C.H. Mackey

This is literary criticism for people who don't like to read fiction. Or rather, for people who read novels just to squeeze them for big, important, gloomy ideas: alienation, the madness of being, the meaninglessness of world without God, and so on.

Actually, Wood writes quite well about God. Religion is the subject of his handful of good essays: in particular his look at God-haunted Herman Melville and the autobiographical title essay which explores Wood's own loss of religious faith. But spilt religion is his measure for all human experience, which is a strange point of view for someone who almost always writes about novels. Novels tend to be rather pagan, agnostic, compromised affairs. Which might explain why Wood usually writes about novelists without saying much about their novels. With Iris Murdoch, for example, he concentrates on her essays; his few words about her fiction--A FAIRLY HONORABLE DEFEAT--are just plain wrong. With other authors, such as Updike or Morrison, Wood picks at a sentence or two to suggest their prose style, then jumps ahead to their overarching themes and big ideas. He has almost nothing to say about characters or story, which for some of us is the meat and meaning of fiction. It's no surprise that Wood's favorite contemporary novelist, W.G. Sebald, is someone who's pulled off the difficult trick of writing novels WITHOUT characters or story.

Now and then Wood can come up with a nice turn of phrase, but this is a highly overrated critic: narrow, incurious and priggish.

Whatever happened to the tradition of morally serious criticism most famously exemplified by F.R. Leavis and Lionel Trilling? What happened to those critics whose essays exemplified what Joseph Epstein has called "gravity"? Well, in Epstein's case he succumbed to the malevolent ideological miasma of Norman Podhoretz's Commentary. Leavis' influence declined as a result of his parochialism, his narrow concentration on a few English writers, and his rather hostile and paranoid attitude towards criticism. As academics concentrated more and more on trying to define what literature, many of the forums for the public intellectual took an increasingly hysterical and demagogic attitude towards modern literary theory. Given the New York Review of Books' notorious reluctance to attract new talent, and the ideological prejudices of the American right, where is a new critic going to come from?

James Wood is one such critic, and to say he is one of the best contributors to the New Republic is not praise enough. Better to say that he reminds one of the New Republic when it was an honest magazine. Intelligent, thoughtful, morally serious, his collection does not show all his virtues. It does not include his witty evisceration of Tom Wolfe's A Man in Full, which demonstrates the difference between a flashy journalist and a real novelist. A great critic tries to remind us of the unaccountably neglected and the forgotten. The only essay here which does that is a fine one on the great Norwegian author Knut Hamsun. (Later essays on Giovanni Verga and Henry Green were written after this book was published.) Wood grew up in an English evangelical household and gradually lost his faith in God's existence. The nonconformist attitudes still remain though, with sometimes unhelpful results. An essay on Thomas More comes close to blaming him for not being a Protestant, and it is based on a dated Protestant historiography of the Reformation that has come under severe challenge from Eamon Duffy, Alexander Walsham and Christopher Haigh. This moralism leaks into his review of Morrison's Paradise, where he criticizes for being insufficiently judgmental.

But the one essay that is truly unforgivably flawed is "Half Against Flaubert." Wood castigates Flaubert for being heartless, unsympathetic, morally empty. That he could make these judgements without reference to Flaubert's "Three Tales" is absurd. It would be like discussing Tolstoy without reference to "The Death of Ivan Illych." Aside from insinuating that Flaubert is metaphorically guilty of the Catholic and monastic heresy of flagellation, Wood's criticisms of A Sentimental Education is singularly obtuse. He cites Henry James criticism, as if it were obvious that James was Flaubert's superior. "The only burning question of Sentimental Education is whether Frederic is going to have sex with his various lovers." No, the burning question is whether there is Frederic Moreau's life and anything in Orleanist and Second Empire France that can preserve him from being suffocated by a heartless conservative mediocrity. Reading this essay in the New Republic I was struck by the fact that this journal was one that looked like it has been edited by A Sentimental Education's cast. It certainaly has more of its share of Naive Moreaus, ruthlessly fashionably Roques, fanatical turncoat Seneschals and unsuccessful opportunistic Deslauriers. To say that Moreau is "bland" misses the point. Many people are, and many more are made that way by the world. At one point Wood praises the moral intelligence of Jane Austen and praises' James' creation of Gilbert Osmond as a truly evil character. In contrast to Flaubert, cannot one say that James and Austen rig the sentiments slightly? Would we feel that Osmond was so evil is he had not married someone as unusually beautiful and sensitive as Isabel Archer?

Otherwise, what we do have here are a collection of interesting and thoughtful essays. D.H. Lawrence is given a sympathetic hearing which helps counter the view that he drowned his gifts in a lunatic, misogynistic quasi-fascism. Gogol, Chekhov and Roth's Sabbath's Theatre are all intelligently appreciated. George Steiner, Thomas Pynchon, Don DeLillo and Toni Morrison are all intelligently criticized, a virtue to be appreciated when many of Wood's colleagues at the New Republic and the New Criterion would simply castigate them for having opinions more liberal than Madeline Albright. For those who think John Updike can never be castigated enough, they will find witty confirmation from Wood. ("Sex exists for Updike as grass does, or the metallic sheen of an air-conditioning unit. This is not philosophical at all, but a rather boring paganism, which finds the same degree of sensuality in everything.")

A lot of praise is being heaped upon Mr Wood, and much of it is deserved. The Broken Estate is a damn fine book of criticism in an age which produces, mostly, badly-written puffed-up nonsense by those who read books for money without loving them. Wood writes terribly well, loves books and thinks arguing about them matters. Indeed, Wood believes good books matter too much for their own sake to be used merely as hostages in the latest battle of the critical theory wars. God bless him for that.

But let us not rush to praise James Wood too much, too soon. As of yet, there is a kind of laziness, an unwillingness to read too closely, to spend too long examining deeply in detail the particular interchanges among the complex webs of meaning great writers create. Wood is now painting with a critical brush too broad for refined contemplation of particular literary moments. Here again one is tempted to bemoan the modern moment. Like so many editors, reviewers, and academics, one imagines he has too much to read too quickly to consistently manage the extended and leisured living-with which our greatest works require. Thus Wood appears to read---not always, but too often--superficially. There are the marks of such a problem throughout this text; moments of missing the matter which matters most.

Most blaring is the essay on Thomas Pynchon's Mason & Dixon. I do not criticise Mr Wood here for coming to a particular conclusion about the merits or otherwise of the work. Rather I suggest that many of the substantial claims he makes about the use of allegory and the employment of intellectual history are factually unsustainable. The confusion of allegorical multiplicity with ethical equivocation is the product of a too-shallow reading, of a reading-to-deadline.

Still, I sympathise. Wood could neither professionally avoid publishing something on Mason & Dixon nor muster enough time to consider this monumental tome with sufficient seriousness. It is a position the late, great novelist William Gaddis understood all too well. The result is a little embarrassing. And yet---here is the gem---within this weakest essay of the collection are half a dozen indispensable gut-level insights, powerfully stated. That alone is most of what we can ask of a critic. Through sheer talent, Wood makes himself worth remembering, even when he is sloppy and wrong.

Mostly, he is neither sloppy nor wrong. Buy this book now, and hope for a better, soon.

My quirky yet brilliant English teacher assigned this work in the beginning of my senior year. Undoubtedly, I approached this book with much doubt and skepticism. If you know Hardy, you immediately recall his superfluity of detail and monotonous landscaping, which inevitably impedes character and plot development. Suprisingly, though all discouraging factors were present, I found the book exceptionally appealing. Hardy's portraiture of Tess validates him as a captivating author. He draws us into her persona, leaving us trampled and bruised with the grievances of life. He walks us through her struggles, though mangled with her inability to step forward, she still persists.
I highly reccommend this book to any avid reader of British literature.

A true joy to read, Tess of the D'Urbervilles is filled with situations that paint pictures of real life. Hardy knew that Tess' reality was filled with enough emotion and drama that there was no reason to add to it the things fairy tales are made of.

When reading Tess of the D'Urbervilles you are brought into the story by Hardy's suberb way of sketching the scene. Though Hardy's descriptive writing can sometimes be hard to digest, his choice of words allow you to enter the landscape and smell the glen yourself.

Overall, an excellent book for the more ambitious reader, and for the one who isn't afraid of the less popular unhappy outcomes.

This is truly one of Hardy's best books! The story is of a young girl (Tess) who's father finds out that he comes from the old great family of the D'Urbervilles. So the family sends Tess to one of their relations to ask for money but also Tess' mother knows that at the house where she is going to be staying there is a man named Alec and she hopes that Tess and he will marry. Alec is tempted by Tess and seduces her after she has been working at his house for a while. Tess has the baby which soon dies. Tess goes to a dairy farm where she meets Angel, a higher class well edgucated young man. These two fall in love and marry. On their wedding night he confesses to her a bad part of his past and she tells him about her child. Angel can not forgive her and leaves. I will stop here beacause I do not want to ruin the book for you, but I will say this it has a whollop of a finish and you will be surprised!

It is a good book, but based on the cover, the description and the other review, I was expecting more Arts & Crafts/Craftsman/Post & Beam/Greene & Greene/Frank Lloyd Wright/Mahady & Associates/etc. style homes and fewer Colonial/Log Cabin/Rustic homes. I just don't consider the latter group to be "elegant". Overall, it is a good book, but not quite what I was expecting.

The moment you open this book you will feel inspired to work with wood in your home. It covers wooden building styles from medieval huts (still in existence from pre 1350 in Finland), through New England clapperboard, through log cabins and swiss chalets. These are enchanting enough, but the photographs of the interiors are fantastic. From deepest rustic, heavy hewn log interiors, to beautrifully painted 18th and 19th century wood panelled rooms. Its all in here.

A celebration of wood. As a huge fan of this natural building material I was delighted with the rich and endlessly varied illustrations. This is not, I should add, a "how to build" book. There is relatively little text, and all illustrations are full colour photographs of real wooden houses (no line drawings, or plans.) But that said, I have drawn great inspiration from it, and would use it directly to instruct a carpenter or architect I was working with.

For all who truely love wood as a buliding and decorative material, this book is a must.

The moment you open this book, you feel the reverance for wood. There is the comfort and coziness in the settings and the elegance in the designs. This is a unique book both for the purist and for traditionalist and every page is a delight. A required reading.

editor/ranchandhome.com

The first of Straub's "Blue Rose" murder mysteries, and my least favorite, though it is - like all Straub's novels - very well written. Koko is often reminiscent of The Deer Hunter, a film I frankly didn't care for at all, and is all about the Viet Nam war, which I care for even less. The book is far too long for the simple serial killer story it is, and isn't terribly involving if you're not into the military or Viet Nam.

I liked Straub's other "Blue Rose" books, but this one took me years to finish and I wasn't glad I did - in fact, I didn't read another Straub book for years, afterward - however, if you're into Viet Nam or military matters, you might enjoy Koko a great deal.

"Ghost Story" ranks as one of the most terrfying novels I have ever read and I picked up "Koko" with expectations for a sequel in intensity, prose and effectiveness. Although it has its moments, "Koko" is two stars down from my favorite Straub novel.

It is way too long to endure for the 100+ pages of brilliant writing. I understand that the writer takes his time on detail and background to introduce real and complex characters involved in the story. But still, I think it was way over-written and yet the ending seemed as a result of pages running out instead of what was being told...

Still, Straub makes up for some of the time you spent with him in the last chapter. He, too, is relieved that the book is over and lets his talents out. You might try to read this one from page 500 to the end.

I can count the books I've felt the urge to read twice on one hand...Koko is one of the elite few. Vietnam vets go in search of a man from their old unit after hearing about a series of murders in the Far East. Koko is a well-written, terrifying journey into the lower depths of hell on earth. Be warned, this book does start off rather slow(I almost didn't keep going), but the rewards are more than worth your perseverance. It was released the same year as Silence Of The Lambs...it is a superior novel. The shared Vietnam experience of the main characters gives this book a believability that is absent in many thrillers. This is the first, and best, entry of a trilogy that includes Mystery & The Throat. I have turned my mother, old girlfriends, and other friends on to this experience. They all thanked me afterwords. You will too. I was eighteen the first time I read this. I was twenty-five the second time. Nothing was lost, it was even better the second time. This is a mature adventure through a nightmare psychological landscape. Do yourself a favor...READ KOKO! For Straub, this is the pinnacle of a wonderful career.