When my grandchhildren come by, which is quite often, they head for a pile of children's books we keep and pick out one or two they would like us to read. "Jack's Amazing Magic Bed" is one of their favorites.

After my children read this book, they began to think more, and fantasize about being Jack, in his amazing, and quite magic bed. After they read it, there was a certain spark in my kids' eyes. I feel that this book is a wonderful read for any young child, and I would recomend it to any parent.

As a child life specialist, I work with children facing chronic serious illnesses. Many of these children are bedridden for long periods of time. They face boredom, frustration and depression. Jack's Amazing Magic Bed is an escape for these children, helping them leave the confines of their room on an exciting, empowering flight over NYC. We have two copies at our hospital, and when a child's treatment prohibits me from even entering their room, I will give the child one copy, call them on the phone, and we will read it page by page together. Thank you Ms. Bennett. You've made a difference in quality of life for these kids.

I'm surprised this series was allowed to go out of print here....I think it's still available in England and maybe elsewhere.

The first book seems slightly different from and even inconsistent with the rest, maybe because the author hadn't developed the characters fully yet. However, it's still as good-it's hard to say which are the best, they're all great.

The Bagthorpes are an eccentric family of geniuses-make that genii-except for Jack, who is incurably ordinary. In the first book he causes a lot of trouble by trying to get noticed; in the others he mostly lets the rest of the family wreak their own havoc, and they do very well. There's Grandma, the trouble-making matriarch who cheats at very game she plays; dreamily poetic Aunt Celia, who's never quite of this world; Celia's daughter Daisy, who is allowed to set fires, write on the walls, and conspire with her imaginary friend Arry Awk; and Mr. Bagthorpe, the bitter, tormented television script writer.

The things they survive (including Fire and Flood and a Haunted House) make for hilarious reading, not to mention lots of great quotes. The tone of the books is a delightful combination of endlessly droll and deadpan/detached.

How COULD they have stop printing these books? I have loved the Bagthorpes since I first got Ordinary Jack as a kid and wanted to get the Bagthorpe series for my niece and friends who are having children. Even though I was labeled "gifted" as a child, Jack is readily identifiable and the books are written with such a gentle humor that they are well worth fighting for.

Really, are we supposed to let "Sweet Valley High" set the tone for our pre-adolescents?

If P.G. Wodehouse had been writing novels for young readers during the last quarter of the 20th century, he might have come up with something like "Ordinary Jack," the first in Helen Cresswell's series The Bagthorpe Saga. Jack, a hopelessly conventional and normal boy stuck in the middle of the madcap, eccentric Bagthorpe family, known for their prodigious achievements, wonders how he can ever get himself noticed. Uncle Parker, not so brilliant himself, sympathizes and comes up with a plan: Jack will become a prophet and go in for such mystical pursuits as visions, water divining, crystal-ball gazing and Tarot-card reading. Of course, all sorts of complications and much hilarity ensue. This very funny book and its six sequels can be found in British paperback editions and ordered from Amazon.co.uk.

A few years ago I had the pleasure of meeting Helen Gee when she gave a talk before a New York City camera club. I greatly enjoyed both her great sense of humor and knowledge of photography, including its history. All of these are on display in her memoir. Although Helen Gee is not a great stylist, she tells her story in an engaging, conversational style. You share in her numerous disappointments and triumphs, as she struggles to survive as a young single mother, intent on pursuing a career in photography. The book is filled with humorous anecdotes about famous photographers such as Edward Steichen, Lisette Model, Robert Frank, and her problems with greedy landlords and petty gangsters. Anyone who wants an excellent view of life in Manhattan in the 1940's and 1950's as well as a glimpse into an important period in American photography will find this book quite captivating.

This book is a fascinating memoir of a self-made woman with an original story. Her life comes through honestly while she tells an important story of the photography scene in NY in the 1950s. For anyone interested in Photography this book is like gossiping over a cup of coffee. I really enjoyed it and read it in a couple of sittings. What Helen Gee did was important and it has been overlooked by photographic historians. She has included a very useful (and impressive) list of exhibitions held at Limelight in the back of the book. It is published by The University of New Mexico Press which is doing a wonderful job of providing the most interesting books on photography.

That's a pretty strong statement right? But it is true. This book and the woman who wrote it is simply extraordinary. The time in which she opened the Limelight was not a time that was easy for women in the world of Photography, or even the world in general. She started a business from the ground up and set an example for future generations of women photographers and small business owners. I highly recommend this book to lovers of Photography. She has intimate knowledge of some of the "Masters of Photography". The best part of the book is sadly the end of it, and the last exhibit of the seven years that the Limelight was in business. Her last show was a collection of prints by the Victorian age Female Photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron. A woman who was also an inspiration. I am so inspired by this book and great woman, that I am considering opening up a small Photo Gallery.

I BEGAN READING ABOUT THE BAGTHORPES MANY YEARS AGO AND THEY'RE STILL A GREAT READ. ANY ONE WHO COMES FROM A LARGE FAMILY WILL APPRECIATE THE UNUSUAL PERSONALITIES AND SPIRIT OF COMPETITION THAT THRIVES. THIS IS JUST ANOTHER CHAPTER IN A FAMILY OF ODDBALLS AND FUN! PRETEENS WILL ENJOY THIS BOOK,BUT IT'S GOT ENOUGH LAUGHS FOR GROWNUPS AS WELL.

I just returned from a week+ trip to NYC with my 9 year old and I thought that this book was very helpful. The authors describe a number of day trips to take with your child, including dining suggestions. It gives you lots of things to do in a small area and in NYC that is VERY important. I liked the notes on how to get to places on the subway and the small maps that pointed out the location of each thing they suggested for that "trip". As an out-of-towner what I found most helpful were the tips on kid friendly restaurants. There are a millions places to eat in NYC and it was nice to go to places that had been kid tested and enjoyed by adults.

This book is well worth reading, especially if you liked ...And Ladies of the Club. It's a less amibitious book, but a finely wrought one. It takes all the cliches of the coming-of-age novel and transcends them at the same time as it sheds a new light on them. The main character is entirely believable, as is the resolution of her dilemma.

Could the book move any slower? Or should I put that statement in words the author would use? " The heartbeat of the book was buried under an ever so faint pile of descriptive nonsense that tore away at the very lining of my soul and left me empty, with only remnants of an unbridled fear of a sequel to bide me..." And really, no matter how you look at it, the book is just that, descriptive nonsense. It was so hard to follow that I felt like I was reading a book that was written in French. The characters? Flat, each and every last one of them, especially that misguided Selena. There was no exploration into the motives of the characters whatsoever, for the life of me I can't understand the relationship between Selena and any of the characters, it was almost like the whole thing was a rough draft, and none of the characters and their paths were clearly established. And talk about boring! What exactly was the point in reading this? What in the heck was Paule trying to say through her novel? That Barbadians are similar to this? That this novel was somehow representative of Barbadian adolescent girls coming of age in New York? I sure hope not. I have written better things in my sleep. In the end I've read better, try The Bearnstein Bears, that is literary art at it's finest, this chick and her story can't compare.

Oh yeah, the ending... What ending?

In this book Paule Marshall blends an overly expressive and even awkward narrative with an almost incomprehensible and pretentious dialogue. Marshall wrote the dialogue of the Barbadian characters with an unrealistic slang. It used some words or phrases that had actually been used by Barbadian immigrants of the 30's and 40's, but she overused them. This and her unreadable colloquial spellings made her dialogue quite bad. The juxtapostion of her nonsensicle dialogue and her failled attempt at an elloquent narrative make this book an annoyance to read. The writing wasn't good, even though it did have it's moments, but what was even worse was the characters, every character in this book, including Selina to some degree was completely flat. Silla was bitter and underhanded, Deighton was lazy and after he joined the cult he was a souless religious fanatic. Ina was weak and Selina was independent, confused about growing up and immotionally strong. What made things worse was, none of these characters were likable at all, apart from Selina. However Selina was not likable most of the time because she seemed to be rebelling against Silla while at the same time Silla was the only reason Selina was remaining well and not dying of starvation. Besides being ingrateful to her mother she was completely unaware of what she stood for. She was a rebel without a cause (how original). In conclusion, besides having a depressing and exasperatingly slow moving plot, the book was so badly written that I couldn't wait until it was over. So, Paule Marshall, I apologize if you may have been offended by any of my statements in this review, but it is the way I feel. This book did had some good moments, but it was still not my cup of tea.

No Hard Feelings,

Andrew Nisinson

This book deals with an aspect of the African American experience which gets very little notice outside of the black community, namely that of the black immigrant. We hear a lot about immigrants from Europe who came here and helped build america. However, immigrants also came here from places like Barbados, Jamaica, Trinidad, Panama, etc. Most whites will identify themselves as irish, polish, italian, german, etc ancestry. However, African Americans seem to be allowed only one ethnicity. It's as if in the darkness only one variation can be discerned. Like most immigrants, the Barbadians described in this book are highly motivated towards material success for themselves and their children. As seen in this book, sometimes this quest occurs at all costs even at the expense of outward expressions of love and affection. For example, Silla is referred to as 'the mother' throughout. As in many families, the ambitions of the parents for their children don't coincide with the children's as seen in the conflicts between Selena and her mother. Unlike white immigrants, their ambitions also run afoul of racism.

I found the narrative sometimes overly descriptive, especially in the preoccupation with sunlight and shadow. The brownstones and the streets often seemed like dark and brooding places.

My maternal grandparents were from Bardados, while my paternal grandfather was from St. Eustacia. I also grew up in Brooklyn (in a brownstone). Therefore, the landscape and the characters were very familiar. In fact, Claremont Sealy and Clive Springer are probably my cousins! A most enjoyable and thought provoking book. I look forward to reading more of Ms Marshall's book.

The Murder of Helen Jewett by Patricia Cline Cohen is an interesting look at a sensational case that touches on many aspects of life in Victorian era New York City. Helen Jewett is the centre of the story and the author gives as much information as she can so that Jewett becomes a living character in history rather than as the symbol she became at the time of her murder. This book is much more than a sensational murder and trial as it becomes a thoroughly researched and wonderfully readable look into the growing pains of a big city. This story is about men and women, clerks and prostitues, legal codes and tabloid journalism, politics and capitilism. Ms. Cohen does a superb job of taking all of these pieces and truly bringing the 1830's Manhattan alive for the reader. A true find and a great pleasure.

I haven't even finished this book yet (I just got it a few days ago) and I am neglecting other things I ought to be doing in order to read it. It is truly mesmerizing, absorbing. Cohen has ably re-created the world of 1830s New York so that it is vital and real, as are the characters she writes about. I haven't met Robinson yet, but I love Helen Jewett -- her spunk, her independence... what might she have been in our modern era? Cline's research is mind-boggling. She left no stone unturned to show a world that is literally like peeling an onion: every layer leads you to something else. Even her explanatory endnotes are interesting. For me, a hallmark of a good book is that you think about it occasionally when you're not reading it. This is that kind of book. A caveat for readers who like a quickly-paced murder mystery: this is a scholarly work (albeit an unusually exciting one)that shows how the world around Helen Jewett influenced what happened to her. Take your time and get to know that world. It will make the mystery more appealing, and more understandable.

This is a fascinating and truly extraordinary work of history, a window on all sorts of early 19th century Americana: the complex social and economic fabric of small but burgeoning New York City; respectable (and hardscrabble) society in Maine; prostitution; the news media; the legal system; the postal system -- virtually every aspect of then-contemporary American institutions and manners up to and including nose-tweaking. In many respects, the world Professor Cohen describes is utterly unlike our own (for example, prostitution in NYC was more than merely tolerated, men did not run the business, and at least until the Jewett case, the prostitutes felt comfortable invoking the protections of police and courts). The book is naturally provocative as well as informative as an account of relations among early 19th century men and women generally, yet always balanced and never strident or didactic (which is rather surprising, considering the subject and the circumstances). It is also a satisfying detective story -- you will be eager to know whodunnit -- and includes a murder trial with some uncanny parallels to that of O.J. Simpson. Finally, though, in bringing so fully to life across a gap of so many years both Helen Jewett and her client/lover, the young Mr. Robinson, Professor Cohen has introduced us to two characters who, once discovered, simply refuse to go away and be forgotten. (These two were contemporaries of Andrew Jackson and Davey Crockett, for example, but this book makes them seem much fresher and more readily accessible.) The book is filled with detail, which may not be for everyone. But for those who find details satisfying, this book is very likely to surprise and delight you.

Helen Barolini (nee Mollica) has established a deservedly solid reputation as a writer who has focused on the lives of women connected to the Italy-to-The-USA avventura. The book, Umbertina centers around the life courses of three women: Umbertina, Marguerite (her granddaughter), and Tina (Marguerite's eldest child, named for her great grandmother, Umbertina). Barolini's description of the life of Umbertina chronicles a classic contadina-to-capitalist tale. Umbertina started her life in Castagna - a typical mountain town in the "instep" of the Italian boot. Barolini aptly describes the misery of life in that town during the years of the mass emigration. She paints a convincing word picture of the serf-like existence of the landless peasants. whose conditions had changed little following the unification of the peninsula under a constitutional monarchy. A series of events leads to Umbertina's marriage to Serafino Longobardi. Barolini credibly recounts the story of their journey from small landholders struggling to pay off their land in the village of Castagna to their occupation of a grand mansion, maintained by the income from a hugely successful produce and importing business established in Cato (pseudonym for Utica), New York. For those who have not read similar stories, Barolini's account can serve as a valid prototype for accounts of the ways in which thousands of participants in the Italy-to-The-USA avventura established their families' affluence. Such stories represent the foundation of the oft-repeated claim, "They came with nothing, there were illiterate, they didn't even speak English, they worked incessantly, and they made it without help from outside sources." Barolini's account of Umbertina's story should easily serve as the myth that suitably chronicles the role of women in the avventura. I have had no hesitation about recommending that part of Barolini's book to my daughters. Umbertina and women like my grandmother, Angelina, deserve to be commemorated. Anyone who has known a grandmother comparable to these two women must extend gratitude to Barolini for her having so ably written that commemoration. After having presented the tale of Umbertina, Barolini spins out the narratives of Marguerite (Umbertina's granddaughter) and Tina (Marguerite's daughter), whose connections to the Italy-to-The-USA avventura played a crucial part in their efforts to develop an authentic self-identity These narratives can be read as tales that dramatically highlight the problems of persons who struggle to gain a self identity that would be authorized by surrounding significant persons. Marguerite needed to develop a self-identity that she could use as she encountered the cross-currents of evaluations conducted by her family, by the nuns at the high school which she attended, by the old line families in the town in which she grew up, by her college classmates, by those of her relatives who had retained their "Italianness," by the elitist Italians who surrounded her and Alberto (the noted literary figure she had married during a trip to Italy), and on and on. Tina needed to develop a self identity that would be authorized by her parents, her Italian-American relatives, her peers in the various academic institutions that she attended, and so on. Their positions as female scions of Italy-to-The-USA immigrants certainly increased the intensity of their efforts at self authorization. And, Barolini effectively portrays that intensity. The problems I had as I tried to impose a unifying perspective on to Barolini's text arose, I believe, from my inability to decide whether her description of the struggles of these two women should or should not be treated as irony. Should a reader regard the descriptions as ironic, or should one simply treat them as straightforward narrative? If a reader would treat the text as a text replete with ironies, then the narratives would best be perceived as a cautionary tale. I would want the narratives to be treated as a cautionary tale - a tale whose teller had infused the story with one after another irony. As I read the text, I construed the author as describing Marguerite and Tina engaging in one after another confusion-based activity (especially sexual activity) that would have the aim of gaining external authorization of enactments of their self identity. The conclusions to which Barolini brings the episodes, however, demonstrate that those repeated efforts consistently led to disastrous outcomes. How will readers respond to the book's ending, following a pattern set in many true romance novels - Tina becomes the promised bride of a member of a 2000 percent, old Cape Cod family. Will readers of Barolini's book detect the ironies embedded in the text, then close the volume and cogitate on the commitment; the sacrifice; the struggle; the distress of adapting a primary, culturally-transmitted self identity to meet the demands of unwelcoming power-holders; and the familial love that carried her forebears and her through Castagna, New York's Little Italy, Utica, Gloversville, Rome (Italy), and Cape Cod. Will readers cogitate on the ways that her forebears provided Tina with the opportunities to build a foundation from which she could be positioned to take the opportunities connected to admittance to a social circle within which her self identity would rarely fail to gain authorization - opportunities provided to millions of Italy-to-The-USA immigrants by the commitment and fortitude of their forebears?

Helen Barolini (nee Mollica) has established a deservedly solid reputation as a writer who has focused on the lives of women connected to the Italy-to-The-USA avventura. The book, Umbertina centers around the life courses of three women: Umbertina, Marguerite (her granddaughter), and Tina (Marguerite's eldest child, named for her great grandmother, Umbertina). Barolini's description of the life of Umbertina chronicles a classic contadina-to-capitalist tale. Umbertina started her life in Castagna - a typical mountain town in the "instep" of the Italian boot. Barolini aptly describes the misery of life in that town during the years of the mass emigration. She paints a convincing word picture of the serf-like existence of the landless peasants. whose conditions had changed little following the unification of the peninsula under a constitutional monarchy. A series of events leads to Umbertina's marriage to Serafino Longobardi. Barolini credibly recounts the story of their journey from small landholders struggling to pay off their land in the village of Castagna to their occupation of a grand mansion, maintained by the income from a hugely successful produce and importing business established in Cato (pseudonym for Utica), New York. For those who have not read similar stories, Barolini's account can serve as a valid prototype for accounts of the ways in which thousands of participants in the Italy-to-The-USA avventura established their families' affluence. Such stories represent the foundation of the oft-repeated claim, "They came with nothing, there were illiterate, they didn't even speak English, they worked incessantly, and they made it without help from outside sources." Barolini's account of Umbertina's story should easily serve as the myth that suitably chronicles the role of women in the avventura. I have had no hesitation about recommending that part of Barolini's book to my daughters. Umbertina and women like my grandmother, Angelina, deserve to be commemorated. Anyone who has known a grandmother comparable to these two women must extend gratitude to Barolini for her having so ably written that commemoration. After having presented the tale of Umbertina, Barolini spins out the narratives of Marguerite (Umbertina's granddaughter) and Tina (Marguerite's daughter), whose connections to the Italy-to-The-USA avventura played a crucial part in their efforts to develop an authentic self-identity These narratives can be read as tales that dramatically highlight the problems of persons who struggle to gain a self identity that would be authorized by surrounding significant persons. Marguerite needed to develop a self-identity that she could use as she encountered the cross-currents of evaluations conducted by her family, by the nuns at the high school which she attended, by the old line families in the town in which she grew up, by her college classmates, by those of her relatives who had retained their "Italianness," by the elitist Italians who surrounded her and Alberto (the noted literary figure she had married during a trip to Italy), and on and on. Tina needed to develop a self identity that would be authorized by her parents, her Italian-American relatives, her peers in the various academic institutions that she attended, and so on. Their positions as female scions of Italy-to-The-USA immigrants certainly increased the intensity of their efforts at self authorization. And, Barolini effectively portrays that intensity. The problems I had as I tried to impose a unifying perspective on to Barolini's text arose, I believe, from my inability to decide whether her description of the struggles of these two women should or should not be treated as irony. Should a reader regard the descriptions as ironic, or should one simply treat them as straightforward narrative? If a reader would treat the text as a text replete with ironies, then the narratives would best be perceived as a cautionary tale. I would want the narratives to be treated as a cautionary tale - a tale whose teller had infused the story with one after another irony. As I read the text, I construed the author as describing Marguerite and Tina engaging in one after another confusion-based activity (especially sexual activity) that would have the aim of gaining external authorization of enactments of their self identity. The conclusions to which Barolini brings the episodes, however, demonstrate that those repeated efforts consistently led to disastrous outcomes. For example, instead of preparing herself for her efforts to develop insights into her heritage in Calabria, Tina impulsively goes off on a wild escapade with a sociologist who leads her to less demanding diversions ("to walk on the beach . . . , swim, eat, nap, make love" [p. 378]). And so, ironically, the well-schooled young woman who would be shamed by the possibility of being categorized as an ignorant, unsophisticated, Italian-American, goes to the town of her grandmother's origin, ignorant of the possible answers to the questions that she raises when she arrives in that town - "And what was the use of her pursuing Umbertina?" "What had she in common with the impoverished hovels of this place . . . With the isolation and the backwardness" (p. 384). Ironically, Tina could only conclude that, "She was now a product of education. There was no return" (p. 384). How will readers respond to the book's ending, which follows a pattern set in many true romance novels - Tina becomes the promised bride of a member of a 2000 percent, old Cape Cod family. Will readers of Barolini's book detect the ironies embedded in the text, then close the volume and cogitate on the commitment; the sacrifice; the struggle; the distress of adapting a primary, culturally-transmitted self identity to meet the demands of unwelcoming power-holders; and the familial love that carried her forebears and her through Castagna, New York's Little Italy, Utica, Gloversville, Rome (Italy), and Cape Cod. Will readers cogitate on the ways that Tina's forebears provided her with the opportunities to build a foundation from which she could be positioned to take the opportunities connected to admittance to a social circle within which her self identity would rarely fail to gain authorization - opportunities provided to millions of Italy-to-The-USA immigrants by the commitment and fortitude of their forebears?

I found the book to be an accurate and stirring portrayal of what it is like to be an Italian -American woman. In the second generation I still recognize the attitudes, feelings and traditions of my ancestors in this book as well as the struggle to affirm our talents as women. I highly recommend it.