The underlying premise of "Loving Little Egypt" is a little far-fetched but intriguing: a sight impaired young man in the early part of the 20th Century finds friendship (with Alexander Graham Bell, among others), a sense of purpose and self confidence through his ability to manipulate the telephone system of the day to his own means and ends. I read (and re-read) this marvelous novel a long time ago, so I do not recall all its details. But now, so many years later, I am still left with the distinct feeling that I had partaken of something very, very special. "Loving Little Egypt" is not an easy book to come across, so if you find it in some second-hand book shop, be sure to buy it and read it. I guarantee that you will love it, and its characters, as much as I did.

If you want to understand the power of telecommunity, and the fact that it wasn't invented yesterday, this is the book for you. A beautiful blend of story, science, adventure and history. I loved it so much that I deliberately had to read the last half slowly, to keep it from being over.

Loving Little Egypt is a fascinating tale of Little Egypt, a blind young man who finds adventure wandering the phone network with his friends, an early "phone phreak" or a forerunner hacker. A rich emotional tapestry, set off with vivid cameo appearances by Alexander Graham Bell, Thomas Edison, and Henry Ford. The novel resonates for years to come, so I'm puzzled that this book and other McMahon novels have gone out of print. If you can find it, read it.

According to Brading, the "purpose of this book is thus to illuminate the sudden efflorescence and the adamantine resilience of the tradition of Our Lady of Guadalupe." (11) The study, however, reads more like and intellectual historiography of Guadalupan ideas and controversies over the past five centuries.

The method of the book is essentially that of an intellectual history. Social historians will not enjoy this book as much as, say, theologians and those interested in literary critique and historiography. What makes this historiography interesting is that the author is able to incorporate the historiographical tendencies in the field while simultaneously inserting his own interpretation of the events. In other words, the theological and historical debates surrounding Guadalupe evolved in accordance with the social and political structures. In the end, the reader emerges not only with an understanding of the debates but also the author's analysis of the literature and its history.

By far, this is one the most enjoyable books that I have read on Guadalupe. Brading is fair and discusses the historical literature in context. Impressive research skills and highly readable! Highly recommended.

In the history of Catholic Marian devotion, the Mexican Virgin of Guadalupe has no rivals. When Pope John Paul II recognized her as patron of the Americas in 1999, he was merely building on a tradition stretching back from Pius XII and Pius X in the twentieth century, to Leo XIII in the nineteenth and Benedict XIV in the eighteenth. No other Marian image has been accorded comparable honours.

The devotion is based on the story of the Virgin's apparitions to the Indian neophyte Juan Diego in 1531, and the subsequent appearance of her image, miraculously imprinted on the Indian's coarse mantle as he unrolled it to free the profusion of flowers that the Virgin had instructed him to take to a bishop. The mantle (tilma) is preserved in a basilica in Mexico City. The symbolic power of the devotion is impossible to exaggerate. It has been seen as the foundation of national identity, as a link between pre-Hispanic and modern times, as a rallying point uniting a racially complex society, and as a clear sign of divine favour.

Historians, however, have often felt uncomfortable with the lack of any convincing proof attesting to the existence of a tradition linked to the story before the publication of Miguel Sanchez's Image of the Virgin Mary in 1648. This disturbing gap has led to a number of attempts to connect Sanchez's treatise with an indigenous oral tradition stretching back to 1531, specifically to the sixteenth-century Indian humanist, Antonio Valeriano, still widely believed to be the author of the native Nahuatl account: the Nican mopohua. But recent scholarship has established that there is no evidence to support such a tradition. More-over, a meticulous linguistic analysis of the Nican mopohua conducted lately has demonstrated not only that the text is written in standard seventeenth-century church Nahuatl, but also that there is direct linguistic proof of its dependence on the treatise by Sanchez, a conclusion that invalidates all previous attempts to find a common source based on an earlier native oral tradition.

David Brading's definitive study, in Mexican Phoenix: Our Lady of Guadalupe, image and tradition 1531-2000, the result of at least three decades' research, is a detailed history of the tradition across five centuries based on a staggering range of primary sources, from theological treatises, chronicles and sermons, to occasional letters and polemical tracts. He laments the "wild, ill-considered arguments derived from a passionate determination to defend the historical reality of tradition", a determination most recently illustrated in the brave attempt by the Jesuit Xavier Escalada "scientifically" to prove the authenticity of a dubious codex, allegedly dating from 1548, which depicts Juan Diego and the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, and is adorned by suitably apt contemporary signatures. "Within the context of the Christian tradition," writes Brading, it would have been "rather like finding a picture of St Paul's vision on the road to Damascus, drawn by St Luke and signed by St Peter."

But Mexican Phoenix is far from being a mere polemic. One of its many merits is that it wisely stays aloof from such fruitless debates in order to place the Guadalupe tradition in the much richer context of baroque piety. Brading demonstrates that Miguel Sanchez and the theological tradition in which he worked drew heavily on Eastern Orthodox spiritual literature, specifically the works of John of Damascus, Theodore the Studite and Basil the Great. Similarly, in the eighteenth century, several Jesuit writers echoed the suggestion, first voiced by Amadeus of Portugal in the fifteenth century, that Mary was present in images in the same way that Christ was present in the Eucharist. Brading has a keen eye for colourful detail and a deep sympathy for the intricacies and convolutions of the baroque, and this allows him to present Sanchez as one of the "most original, learned and audacious of Mexican theologians", the author of a treatise "brimming with devotion, in which religion and patriotism were inextricably meshed, and where audacious claims were sustained with deep learning".

Mexican Phoenix is incomparably the most complete and reliable study to have appeared on the Guadalupe tradition hitherto. Its conclusions, however, are more than likely to infuriate the zealous apparitionist school; so it is perhaps with this in mind that, in his concluding remarks, Brading makes an interesting theological excursus. Drawing on traditional church teaching, he reminds his potential critics that "in framing the gospels, God employed human authors who . . . could in no sense be seen as mere puppets used by a divine ventriloquist . . . . If that be the case, is there any real reason to suppose that when the Holy Spirit conceived the idea of the Guadalupe, he refrained from employing a human agent to implement that design?"

British historian David Brading offers an exquisite new approach to the tradition of Our Lady of Guadalupe in a masterpiece resembling Jaroslav Pelikan's Jesus Through the Centuries. While controversy has surrounded the historicity of Juan Diego and Guadalupe in the past decade, Brading offers a thesis that invites us to move beyond "probable fact" to the meaning of the Guadalupe event in the course of Mexican history.

Guadalupe represents more than a historical episode, and the expression of Mexican identity she embodies requires a study that furthers the reflection on the meaning she has represented to the Mexican people throughout the centuries. The scandal surrounding the former abbot of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which contributed poorly to the understanding of what Guadalupe means to her people, reduced faith and identity to mere scientific fact. Science ought to be but a single angle of interpretation to the cult that has always meant much more than "corroborated evidence for the supernatural."

Brading offers a way to move beyond the debate centered on declarations and counter declarations of the veracity of scientific fact, by contemplating the significance of Guadalupe from the heart of Mexican faith and history.This book is not an easy read, not exactly the pastoral manual on all things related to Guadalupe either. The uninitiated reader will not find the answers to all his or her Guadalupe questions easily. Both the theological and historical language used is largely for experts; nevertheless, if one manages to plow through the hermeneutics and the references to Byzantine iconography of the initial chapters, one will find the second half of the book most illuminating, particularly the post independence treatment of Guadalupe, which has not been as thoroughly studied as the colonial period.Mexican Phoenix is an exploration of the evolution of the Mexican psyche -- its need to affirm its identity and uniqueness, its search for symbols and authenticity.

The key is found in the collection of works that Brading has used to support his claims, panegyric sermons and other treatises used in different periods of Mexican history to "exalt the singular Providence which distinguished their country," especially those published in the 18th century at the height of Mexican patriotism on the threshold of independence.Despite the numerous books and theories on the Guadalupe apparitions and all the arguments that have fueled the debate over this event for centuries, Brading's new opus offers an elegant and comprehensive integration of the elements that have comprised this debate, both because of its historical thoroughness and its theological insight, Few historians have succeeded in unraveling the theological implications of the Guadalupe event with such skill. The transformation and process of the cult speak not only of the course of Mexican history but also of the evolution of its religiosity, in a way few other symbols can.

Perhaps Brading's most important contribution to contemporary Guadalupe scholarship is the historical and theological contextualization of the event. Myth, iconography and Catholic theology and history are all interwoven into an expert interpretation of the cultural convergence that took place in Guadalupe. Only a historian with his encyclopedic knowledge of the theological and historical context of the tradition could have ventured such an ambitious integration.

Few scholars have been able to place the Guadalupe cult in the perspective of the religious turmoil of the Counter-Reformation Catholic church. Moreover, he places texts in time and place referring to their use and acceptance, more than to the mere fact of their date of publication. Brading's hermeneutics of both the theological and historical texts (including images) lays the new rules for future study of Guadalupe.

Henceforward any serious debate, either historical or theological, will have to refer to the context Brading lays out in his book.After addressing the enigmatic silence of 16th-century sources for the Guadalupe event, Brading invites his readers to consider instead its theological dimensions. He recognizes that despite historicity, the image "possesses a charm and presence that exerts a power over the faithful" difficult to ignore. Any visit to the Basilica or any church consecrated in her name, or even the image in many a Catholic parish throughout the Hispanic world, will testify to that fact.

The final chapters then, ask the more important questions, pertaining to the theology and spirituality of Guadalupe, which in a final analysis are the only explanation to the cultural resilience of the tradition.

Brading has turned theologian and surprises his readers with a concluding interpretation that moves the debate definitely beyond history: "It is surely more theologically appropriate to presume that the Holy Spirit worked through a human agent, which is to say, through an Indian artist, possibly the painter." Drawing on contemporary theology, particularly Vatican II documents such as the "Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation," he draws the argument over Guadalupe full circle. Like most religious events, there is more than just fact involved and a fuller understanding requires the tools of interpretation offered only in scholarship outside history.

The author brings us to the present. Guadalupe continues to exert a powerful influence on Mexican identity both within and outside Mexico, but is it possible that even as we debate the evolution of the tradition new dimensions are being added to it? New questions need to be raised in the face of globalization. The displacement of Mexican or even Hispanic identity from a religious axis to a more secular one needs to be addressed.What does it mean that national soccer games attract as many, and perhaps more fans, than Dec. 12th celebrations? Have we found a modern replacement for the exaltation of national pride? Is it time for our faith to translate itself yet another time, redefining the Guadalupe tradition for today's world? How is Guadalupe being brought into the life of new generations of Mexicans and Hispanics?

The tradition was certainly built on theological interpretation. Now it must look to present-day theologians to offer the interpretation that recharges Guadalupe with the meaning today's global reality demands.

In the middle ages a legend sprouted that Vergil (yes, the ld roman) was a great magician. Davidson wrote this novel within this old fantasy setting. Minotaurs and witches abound, but so does a frightfully accurate knowlege of the ancient world. Quite a good read for those who like their historical fiction to be both well grounded and full of fanciful flights.

This is one of those rare small volumes, which, over time, have become cult classics. Avram Davidson never enjoyed the great popularity of some of his peers, but it should be noted that he enjoys much popularity among his peers. In other words, he is very much a writer's writer. By which I mean that his writing creates even more possibilities than it fulfills.

This book develops the medieval myth that Vergil was not simply a great poet, but a master mage living in the time of Augustus Caesar. Davidson's Vergil has the kind of inquisitive mind that has a knack for leading him into trouble. So, it is no surprise that, when he is rescued from being hunted by manticores, his rescuer, Cornelia of Carsus, promptly traps him into agreeing to create a speculum majorum - a mirror made entirely of the purest materials that, on its first use, will reveal whatever the user wishes it to see. Unfortunately, such mirrors are almost impossible to make, requiring raw materials that will send Vergil on a magical quest through the Roman Empire. Eventually the task will lead the mage to Phoenixes, Cyclops, things horrible and beautiful, and finally, to love.

What makes this small novel more than just a quaint, entertaining story is the depth of understanding Davidson has of this imaginary world. Not the world of the Roman Empire itself, but the world of the Roman Empire as it was imagined by medieval Europeans. Odd but useful creatures, distant lands with strange names, alchemists and astrologers all abound between these covers. There is no page upon which something arcane and unique is not revealed. In addition, the description of the making of the mirror is precise and accurate for the imaginary world of Hermes Trismegistis and the great works of alchemy.

The book is as much a resource for anyone interested in setting a fantasy in this world of the imaginary empire, as it is a jewel-like entertainment in which knowledge is an important part of the action. It is sad to see it always wobbling on the edges of being gone forever as publishers try more and more to substitute adrenalin for writing skills. Hopefully, you will find a copy and love it, and then be led to investigate Davidson's other works. Of such are pleasant hours made.

A mage (in a Rennaissance Earth quite similar to ours) is hired to make a magical item. The plot is OK, but the richness of detail in his many labors to construct the item is absolutely mesmerizing. Highly recommended, especially for fantasy role-players

After the government exiles him, ordering that anyone who even talks to him also be exiled, Phaethon descends into the world of hopeless losers. He's equipped with sophisticated nanotechnology--but fears any contact with the global communications and computer system that will, he is certain, announce his whereabouts to the enemies that he knows are invading our system--enemies that only he believes exist. Somehow, Phaethon must overcome the limitations put on him by both his own society and these mysterious invaders, if he is to reclaim his space ship--the Phoenix Exultant which he built to travel to the stars.

Author John C. Wright does a wonderful job building a convincing world of the future. Nanotechnology is everywhere, artificial intelligences are protected by law, and human/computer society has experimented with group minds. In many ways, it is a golden age, but an age with its limitations--and Wright's Phaethon is the kind of man who is destined to struggle against these limitations.

THE PHOENIX EXULTANT combined interesting extrapolation with solid adventure. A dynamite combination, for sure. Unfortunately, the writing, especially the dialogue, is sometimes clunky to the point where characters seem to be lecturing one another. Phaethon's heavy-handed attempts to reform the losers of the water realm where he is sent may be well-meaning, but make him appear condescending and annoying rather than heroic and caring. Imperfections aside, THE PHOENIX EXULTANT is a fascinating read and worth the occasionally heavy language.

I was a huge fan of the first book, Golden Age and eagerly waited the arrival of The Phoenix Exultant. The biggest disappointment in this book is that you find out in the front matter, we get to wait for yet another book to see how this amazing story ends.

The first book has a tendency to knock people over with Wright's fire hose introduction to the world of the far future. The first few chapters bounced of Golden Age bounced around between Phaethon, the Peers and other things happening at the festival leading up to the millennial transcendence.

This book launches out of the gate with our hero now the penultimate outcast, and by and large the story focuses solely on him. Unlike the first book that spent time laying out the landscape of a world where most of the human race has been computationally augmented along one of several stereotypes, this The Phoenix Exultant focuses on how a man who has lived in this digitally enhanced world for thousands of years now finds ways to do without. In the end Phaethon emerges a stronger, more focused man, more intent than ever that his vision and future are in his hands alone, and that no power on earth (or in the Galaxy really) can stop him from achieving his dreams.

Though this tale of struggle and survival, Wright weaves in several side trips that delve into this fascinating future world: What role does the military play? What happens at the "bottom" of the food chain? Surely with nearly unlimited power and wealth, everyone is happy? Don't count on it! In this second installment the enemies that hunt Phaethon are closer and more real than ever, the powerful forces of the status quo more intent to keep him down than ever before. Through it all one person is willing to give up everything this nearly magical world has to offer at a chance to save him from exile and certain death.

The Phoenix Exultant is a wonderful book full of imagination and invention. The Golden Age series is shaping up to be one of the pivotal works of Science Fiction.

With his exile, Phaethon knows that his life will never be the same (see THE GOLDEN AGE). Instead of the advantages he has received as a member of powerful and wealthy Radmanthus House, Phaeton will traverse the solar system on a quest to regain all he lost starting with his memory.

However, though humans, other strange life forms, and sentient machines might want to offer their help, anyone who actually assists the exile risks banishment too. Still some intelligent beings refuse to allow a threat to stop their assistance of Phaethon. The Old Woman of the Sea whose mind traverses all sea creatures and the surviving residue of a mass mind do not fear exile and aid the expatriate. Soon Phaethon concludes that essences from another star system plan to eradicate him and probably his people beginning with his logging onto the Mentality, but still he believes he must do all he can to save the stagnating society that he was once the Prime.

THE PHOENIX EXULTANT, Volume Two of The Golden Age trilogy, displays John C. Wright's skills in species building so that the reader believes in the varying, several weird, races that populate his galaxy. The story line is exciting as the hero goes on a quest, but also suffers to a minor degree from the genre's bane, middle speculative fiction syndrome (better known as MFSF). New readers will enjoy the tale, but gain much more from reading the first novel before perusing this delightful book for better understanding.

Harriet Klausner

While it has little information on how to do HOME projects to utilize the benefit of Hydrogen or solar power, Mr. Braun has done a tremendous amount of research on the ability to go there. He also credits Dr. Roger E. Billings with his original research in hydrogen powered cars, and the new fuel-cells.

Matt

I love this book! I fully read my autographed copy about every 6 months or so and reference it often. I call it "the bible" and have it highlighted throughout.

The fact is, this book not only points out what our collective problems as a planet are, but most importantly brings to light real and viable solutions to solve these problems.

In my opinion, if you have this book in your collection, read it and loan it to others, we all are richer as a people!

Written for the layman, this book was a delight to read and easily digested. Shocking in its implications and the consequences of turning a deaf ear. If electronics replaces steel as an economic engine, this book replaces fossil fuels the same way.

This is a terrific and highly readable biography of a fascinating and enigmatic ruler, set in a period of great political upheaval. Anyone interested in the details of "why" and "how" things happened - not merely "what" happened - will find this book immensely interesting.

Kendall's style is gripping, but he tends to be a partisan for his subject. At times, his bias becomes a little annoying, particularly where more than one "spin" could be put on a certain course of action. The reader must be careful to make his own judgements in many places.

That said, Kendall provides a wealth of quotes from contemporary sources, and his scholarship is unquestionable. This is a great book, covering a time and place that is too little addressed in most popular histories.

In LOUIS XI THE UNIVERSAL SPIDER, biographer-historian Paul Murray Kendall says the Burgundian chronicler Molinet called Louis "the universal spider" and the sobriquet unfortunately stuck. He says Louis was further demonized by 19th Century historians and writers who failed to do their homework. Louis XI was not so much spider as he was diplomat and peace-maker in an age when men looked suspiciously on such behaviour, and combat was viewed as the honorable and noble approach to settling disputes. Louis used his head and the end result was to bring the feudal era in France to a close and help usher in the modern world.

Louis reckoned the ceaseless bickering and fighting of the nobles was destructive to the health of the countryside and the people of France. The common people of the towns and villages agreed with Louis as did the merchants and tradesmen. Louis is not remembered for winning any great battles. The major reason Louis was so successful in defeating his enemies was owing to his understanding of finance. He understood that those who fight must finance their wars and without funds, their access to armaments and mercenaries evaporates. The clever king also understood that when the countryside is destroyed an army that crawls on its belly cannot fight.

Charles VII was the father of Louis XI, that same Dauphin whom Joan the Maid of Orleans managed to have crowned. The ungrateful Charles VII did nothing to save Joan once she had been captured by the English and the Duke of Burgundy, but the six-year old boy who became Louis XI never forgot the saint and he held a lifelong devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary after his encounter with her. When Louis was most pressed he prayed to the Virgin, and his monument to her at Clery still exists.

The Duke of Burgundy during Charles VII's reign was Phillip the Good, and when Louis XI ran afoul of his father, he sought shelter with Duke Phillip who sheltered him. Thus Louis spent a good part of his young manhood in the company of his dour cousin Charles the Bold who became the Duke of Burgundy on his father's death. Charles also became Louis' life-long enemy and it was Charles' man who slandered Louis by referring to him as "the universal spider."

Louis had one aspiration--to unite France in peace, and promote commerce and the general welfare of the people. Charles the Bold fancied himself another Julius Caesar--a warrior-king. Charles set about expanding his Duchy until Burgundy reached from the county of Burgundy near the Jura mountains to Flanders and Holland on the North Sea.

Louis was no warrior-king. While other lords ran around in ermine and velvet and jousted at tournaments, Louis donned the hunter's clothes and spent most days in the rural areas chasing animals with his hunting dogs and comingling with the common folk. When he wasn't hunting animals Louis collected them for his vast menagerie.

On most occasions Louis tried to make peace not war. He used his head, outwitted his enemies including the English king Edward IV, and at the end of his life left his heir Charles VIII a united France. Kendall obviously admired Louis and remarks that he was one of the most formidable human beings who ever lived.

I have been reading the series Alison Weir has been writing on the English nobility, and enjoyed reading LOUIS XI not only because I want to know more about the history of France, but because in reading about Louis XI, I was able to understand why certain exchanges, conflicts, etc. regarding Edward IV were important. If you found Alison Weir's book on the WAR OF THE ROSES intriguing, you will appreciate this book. Kendall's writing is comparable to Weir's and he has based his writing on his original research--though he is quite dependent on Commynes as are most of Louis' biographers.

I bought this book from Alibris, and I recommend you find a copy if you're interested in this period of history. I am puzzled as to why this book is out of print.

Paul Murray Kendall's "Louis XI" illuminates a seldom studied area of world history. France of the fifteenth century was a fragmented collection of duchies and fiefdoms ruled over by independent nobles. Although they were technically vassals to the French King, in reality they often ignored the King and ruled their lands pretty much as they pleased.

During his reign from 1461 until his death in 1483, Louis XI used his wits and artful negotiation to beat the militarily stronger Duke of Burgundy and the other nobles of his kingdom while at the same time fending off foreign foes, Britain and Austria.

Louis XI was a king who travelled around his kingdom on a regular basis to learn what was happening in the towns and provinces of France. He also developed a network of communications to stay in touch with even the farthest reaches of his kingdom. This network of communications earned him the nickname "the Univesal Spider."

Kendall's book brings Louis XI to life in a very exciting narrative. The book gathers and holds the reader's attention until the very end.

I had always loved Ralegh's poetry, I fell enamored of the fictional account of his life entitled "Death of a Fox" by George Garrett some 30 odd years ago, but had never really comprehended the sweep of Ralegh's life. In his own way, according to Lacey, Ralegh's household became almost the equivalent of our Jet Propulsion Laboratory, Draper Labs, or even NASA. The story about the cloak and Elizabeth is true, but the depth of his love for his wife was new to me.

Fascinating, well-written book. Truly fascinating man.

Like his later compatriate Sir Winston Churchill, Sir Walter Ralegh is one of those historical figures about whom virtually everyone knows something. From the old yarn about cloaks and puddles (though this actually happened), to his sponsorship of the tobacco industry (this happened too), to his tragic expedition to the Orinoco, Ralegh lore is a recurring theme in school history classes on both sides of the Atlantic. Lacey's great achievement is to blend these facets of his life seamlessly with the other, less familiar, episodes. One of the most interesting revelations is that for all the early and mid-life glories of his Elizabethan years - the poetry, the daring exploits and bon mots - his "finest hour" was in adversity, when (under sentence of death in the Tower) he wrote his brilliant multi-volume "History of the World." This is one of those rare biographies (Carlo D'Este's "Patton" comes to mind as another) where the reader is completely absorbed into the subject's mind and world.

To write a biography of a man with as much vitality and variety as Ralegh would seem at first sight a daunting task for any author: however well the tale is told, it will pale beside the real life exploits of this, the most remarkable of Englishmen.

The success of Robert Lacey's account is largely due to the way he reflects the multifaceted nature of his subject in the book's structure. There are some 50 chapters, divided into seven sections, each charting the ups and downs of Ralegh's uniquely chequered career. From country upstart to royal favourite, from privateer to traitor in the Tower, his life was never still - a continuum of change within a world that was constantly reassessing itself.

It is above all an account of a man who was almost uniquely human: capable of immense bravery and ingenuity, creativity and arrogance, one moment acquitting himself with a rare brilliance, the next with sublime recklessness. Ralegh was the epitome of man, warts and all, and a man who struggled daily to achieve ends that were destined to lie forever beyond him, whether they were glories of the gold of El Dorado or the love of his virgin Queen.

Far from being a trip down the honeysuckled lane of nostalgia, this is a book that is uniquely relevant to the present day. Many readers will be aware of the legends of Ralegh's bejewelled cloak, or acquainted with verses of his gilded poetry; many more will be surprised to learn that he was the founding father of the British colony, and that his experiments in Munster, Virginia and Guyana led directly to the vast empire that was only a couple of centuries later to cover one third of the globe. Yet he was in his explorations and expeditions a great philanthropist, and his treatment of the local inhabitants in the Americas was to earn him a respect that lasted many generations, as opposed to the legacy of mistrust and hatred that the Spanish pioneers engendered.

Ralegh was a man whose talents and faults, when fuelled by his rare energy, shone like beacons. He lived the kind of life that most of us only dream of, and few can live up to. Lacey's greatest achievement is never to lapse into the kind of starry-eyed hero-worshipping that often accompanies biographies of remarkable men. It is a profoundly moving book, particularly in its final chapters, when the voice of Ralegh in his final speech before his execution is allowed to resonate down the years with few embellishments and, as such, is all the more powerful. The book is a testament to the unique powers of one man: the man, to the powers that lie within us all.

Srinivas's ambition is to set up and run a weekly journal called "The Banner". After various mishaps, he engages the printer Mr Sampath to produce "The Banner" - thereafter Srinivas is drawn into a chaotic world of small-town Indian film making.

I thought that this was an enjoyable, essentially comic novel, satirising the Indian film industry of the time. It has more to it that merely than that however: I thought that Narayan was also interested in male obsessiveness - or single-mindedness if you will - in which the pursuit of single dreams are often carried out at the expense of cultivating relationships with loved ones/the family.

As ever, Narayan's prose is crisp, sharp and very easy to read. His eye for comedy is good, and the satire is gentle rather than bitter. And enjoyable for all that.

G Rodgers

I bought this in Madras and that same night Chandra brought up Narayan in conversation -- raised in Mysore, brother to RK Laxman. Malgudi is not Mysore, though, but smaller, provincial, in the orbit of Madras -- perhaps some place like Chenglepat, Seshadri's birthplace. This book has a loose, whimsical mood to it. The twin protagonists, the unworldly editor and the worldly yet also idealistic printer, are wonderful. But the story isn't very tight. Short as it is, it reads as if written in installments. Interesting that it was published in London several years before India. I think that this book influenced Naipaul's House for Mr. Biswas -- Naipaul recognized his own father in Narayan's thwarted editor.

Narayan's writing has immense natural charm and elegance: it is never less than an absolute delight. He often, I think, relies too much on these qualities, and skates over some of the more profound themes. But that is not the case here. The themes are dark indeed: grinding poverty, exploitation, primitive superstitions - indeed, human suffering in general. What can one do when surrounded on all sides by such horrors? Become indifferent to it - assume a philosophy that claims that such things are so, and must be so, as they are part of the eternal equilibrium. And meanwhile, the suffering continues.

All this makes the book sound tremendously heavy: it isn't. It is wonderfully witty and charming; at times, it is uproariously funny. I do not know of any other writer who can do justice to such serious themes with so light a touch. This seems to me one of the great underrated novels of this century.

Children might be tempted to believe that there are Wish Granters floating about, if one can just find them! This fanciful tale is set in Victorian England--an era of gas jets, scullery maids and coal hobs. Four children (as in THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE) discover a special fire egg which hatches in their nursery fireplace. Then their mother purchases a Persian carpet, which provides the vehicle for Space (if not Time) Travel. It even responds to written commands and obeys instructions without a human pilot.

All this magical flying about in response to wishes reminds me of the cloak in THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE and Mary Norton's THE MAGIC BEDKNOB. Nesbit's style also reminds me of Beatrix Potter, with many asides, advice or explanations directed to the reader. The setting returns us to the ingenuous nursery days of AA Milne's stuffed animal world.

The story takes place around Christmas and the children wrestle with their consciences over moral issues concerning the unexplained acquisition of wealth, curios, toys and pets. How much to reveal to skeptical parents and how ethical it is to whisk unsuspecting adults away to a remote island or to allow rational people to assume they are insane or just dreaming. How can the siblings plus their baby brother (called the Lamb) ever return to the status quo, since they can only enjoy their carpet rides and conversations with the Phoenix in secret?

This book is too naive for the elementary kids of the 90's, but it would be a good selection to read aloud, one chapter a night before bedtime to younger children. The more you have read of Children's Literature, the more you will recognize from other books. This one may have been the inspiration for the others...!

"The Phoenix and the Carpet" is about four children who find a carpet and then a phoenix shows up and tells them it's a magic carpet. The children have many adventures with the phoenix and the carpet including many in other continents and a place where there can be no whooping coughs. At the end, the phoenix has to part from the children. I thought this was a great book not only because it had magic and it was JK Rowlings' favorite author; but also because it was a fun well-written book.

The phoenix in an ancient animal, or to be more exact - bird. It falls into the hands of five cute children, who takes a real good care of it. It also brings along a magic carpet, just like everyone would like to have at home. The phoenix, is very bright, and its presence sure makes things much more interesting and fun. Its one of the books I liked the best.

We tend to think of dictatorships in a very specific way. One man cannot rule alone and this book describes the political manuvering and the ideological underpinnings of Franco's Spain. I was surprised that Fascist Italy was the ideological wellspring for the Iberians. I found particularly interesting the idea of Corporatism as a means of organizing society.

Mr. Payne's book The Franco Regime contains a wealth of first class information. In the course of studying it - a pleasurable affair, because of its fine style - I had however some disappointments when I went after checking some footnotes.

1. On page 139 (in my copy) Payne relates the Guernica bombing. I was inclined to believe his every word, but his footnote 54 mentions an important author with the alleged name Geoffrey Speer. However, following footnote 56 I studied Mr. Southworth's book Guernica! Guernica!, in which obviously the same author's name is spelled - correctly - George L. Steer. He is the author of The tree of Gernika. It is strange that Southworth book seems to be recommended by Payne, whereas Southworth is highly critical of Payne himself, who is accused of credulity of neo-franquist sources. I would have liked (and expected) that Payne had defended himself.

In the same vein there is on p. 647 an odd recommendation of the book of the German Walther L. Bernecker, Spanien seit dem Burgerkrieg, that is very biased, or at least very hostile, against Franco, whereas Payne is making a case for reappraisal of Franco as a leader who deserves some credit.

It seems that Mr. Payne mentions or recommends books that he did not give much attention.

I must admit these are or not very important issues, but it makes me a bit anxious about the other footnotes.

This is without a doubt one of the finest books I have ever read. I read it cover to cover and not only did I find it a fascinating read, but it was also a work which breaks down many preconceived notions about the structure and dynamics of the Franco regime. This, read with Hitler Stopped by Franco, will certainly change some ideas about the character and motivation of Franco. This book cites well from primary sources, and is certainly one of the best researched works I have seen on the subject. Any person who questions the motives or history of the Franco regime should read this book. (Especially if they have read the terrible articles in the New York Times lately).