A friend gave me Feather Fall for Christmas two years ago, thinking I would enjoy reading it. For some reason I put it on the shelf and forgot about it for several months. When I picked it up and started reading it, I called her to say what a fantastic book and that she must read it! Since then I have been trying to read everything by and about Laurens van der Post. He has led me into a discovery of the people and geography of South Africa, but more importantly has helped me on my spiritual journal.

The Spoils of Freedom is a searching thing of what went on and is on and on in the former Yugoslavia. Salecl connects the state's anti-abortion stance with the phenominal success, to date, of the Croatian football team. Interwoven with illuminating commentaries of Lacan and Foucault, this book is a must for all would-be rockers. Buy now!

The late Bernard Fall presents a hard-hitting, cynical history of the French period in Vietnam in the 10 years just after WW2 and an even more critical look at the early U.S. efforts in the early 1960s. This is not light reading and its not pretty.It will give an accurate description of what the "West" faced over there. As any Vietnam Vet would attest, there is nothing "light" or "pretty" about that place and cynical is the only appropriate attitude. It's so obvious now how Ho Chi Minh and General Giap were successful."If only we knew then..." Mr. Fall also does a first rate job in compressing the conflict into less than 400 pages (including notes and appendices). He didn't have to recount every battle to paint his picture. This reader appreciates his account of Viet Cong convoy attacks -from only one first hand experience- they put cook, clerk and grunt alike in equal, sudden and random danger. Its ironic that the author met his sudden death in just that way. Serious students of the French years in Vietnam should read "Street Without Joy" first and then proceed to "Hell In a Very Small Place", which concentrates on the tragic but heroic struggle of the French Army at the garrison at Dien Bien Phu. Were he still with us,I'm sure M. Fall was one of those guys it would be great to hava a few beers with. What stories he could tell! I'd love to know more about the two prostitutes who were commended for bravery and proposed for medals! What would Westy say about that!

In this first hand account of the French war in Vietnam, Dr. Bernard Fall provides a critical analysis of French combat operations in a war that lasted from 1946 to 1954. Over 94,500 gallant, French soldiers died in this vain, yet valiant attempt to contain communism in Southeast Asia. What could and should we have learned from this tragedy?

Lessons learned included the folly of employing heavy, road-bound, mechanized/armored forces that were highly vulnerable to Viet-Cong (VC) ambushes, effective use of the jungle as a sanctuary by the VC, underestimating the stamina of the VC, and the ultimate war-weariness that caused the French public to rebel at fighting a seemingly endless conflict for no tangible gain. Add to this, the close coordination of political and military objectives that caused the Viet-Cong to sacrifice people, places and things to achieve a single objective: A Vietnam united under Communism. Does this sound familiar? This book, published in 1961, was readily available in the U.S. If it was read, it was ignored.

Fall gives detailed accounts of communist tactics and the results that accrued to French commanders who refused to recognize the fact that, "the (tactics) book," they had been schooled under simply did not apply in Vietnam. Amazingly, the U.S. then deployed our troops to Vietnam, with our own officers schooled by the same, "book!" Gallantry, esprit-de-corp, machismo, and/or faith in a righteous cause were no more effective against well-laid ambushes in the '60s and '70s than they were in the '40s and '50s. The lessons of history were there for the reading. Why we refused to heed them is a mystery that still calls for an answer.

Street Without Joy is not a left-wing condemnation of western "imperialism," or, the evils of "intervention." Fall neither condemns nor condones the goal of containing communism. He merely analyzes reasons for the French defeat. There was no precedent for fighting a "revolutionary war," prior to the French experience. The same could not be said for the U.S. If the French defeat was borne of ignorance; America's came seemingly from arrogance.

George Santayana said, "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to relive it." There are two lessons to be learned here: First, tactical schemes should be derived from the terrain and situation, not from blind adherence to, "the book." Books can be altered. Terrain, climate, and enemy forces cannot. Second, never again should U.S. troops be compelled to walk any, "street without joy," that is combat, without conducting a thorough review of the mistakes made by our predecessors. Reinventing the wheel is not only inefficient; in war, it is deadly! Ninety-four thousand, five hundred eighty-one crosses scattered throughout Indo-china, each bearing the name of a French soldier testifies to the truth of lesson one. Over 50,000 American names on, "The Wall," silently attest to the second.

The late Bernard Fall provided us with the two best books on the First IndoChina War, or the French IndoChina War. The two book are "Street Without Joy" and "Hell in a very Small Place". These two books should be read to together, preferably "Street Without Joy" being the first book read. This book is required reading for any serious student of the French IndoChina War. It is a pity that many of the political leaders in the United States did not read these book and take away the lessons they imparted.

Hal Beers and I had very similar careers. Navy Jet Fighter Pilot to Lockheed Space Systems Division; David's observations of a latter day "Life With Father" struck a lot of familiar and abused nerves. I joined LMSC about a year earlier than Hal. We were in the same organization at the advent of space systems. The thrill (like Startrek) to go where no man has been before was a real rush. Yet it grew old. We aged. (Always the commute to the west Santa Clara Valley was a bitch. This added tension to a terribly tense job.) The thrill of being the first started to erode when we saw the third and fourth generations of young engineers making the same stupid mistakes we made (with five inch slide rules not IBM PCs with Bill Gates software. Dave missed a few of the high points such as the Nixon post-Viet Nam stagflation and decline in the space-biz where LMSC Sunnyvale's employment dropped from almost 40,000 to about 12,500. We used to track it with our paycheck numbers. In our house "I could be out on the street on Monday Morning" was a classic oft-repeated gag line by my kids - I gagged because it was so close to reality. The book helped me relive some of my greatest and worse hours. Although Hal and I separated about five years after he joined the Company, David's story applies to all of us. The almost hopeless state we drove ourselves and our families. Yet we survived. My kids grew up - graduating from Saratoga High in 1969 and were thrown right into a new life I never dreamed of - Viet Nam riots, Haight-Ashbury, free love, rock and roll and recreational pharmaceuticals. Yet they too survived. David got a little too maudlin. His retrospective on the changes sort of caused the book to drag towards the end. Yet it is an accurate slice of life with the bright stars and Blue Skies of the Cold War - winning ulcers or coronary by-passes in lieu of medals. Its over. I'm sure Pericles grandchildren would agree that life goes on - and humans are by nature survivors. Darwin avered that we adapt. We did and are still adapting. /s/ Bill Eaton, LMSC 1959-1983

While my dad worked in a steel mill in western Pa. this is my story too. It is the story of growing up, Catholic, in the 60's & 70's in a small town. The Lost in Space chapter is fun, since I collect LIS toys now.The author was shooting higher than this, but it hit me emotionally at a lower level. I enjoyed the book, and have re-read it many times.

David Beers's dazzling memoir is the first real history of the blue sky people of the american military industrial complex. it's one man's account but it represents thousands and thousands of us in the u.s. it's accurate down to the tiniest detail, such as how we had fathers who never spoke of their lines of work and who kept their jobs for 40 years, mothers who saw no contradiction in transplanting old world catholicism into our jetsons-mentality world, houses with open foyers in our living rooms, science as our sacred school subject, and swimming as our sacred sports subject. The book also delves into why we viewed computer geeks suspiciously and why we had hoffer, galbraith and desmond morris on our family bookshelves. these are awfully small details and i find it revelatory that they are reported with the minutest accuracy. no one has looked as closely and thoughtfully at this curiously rootless middle class revolutionary blue-sky tribe of people as beers.

as one who has experienced this lifestyle growing up in san diego in the 1960 and 1970s, to read the book was to open a magic answerbook about identity. every single word in it was true, thoughtful, and creatively well-investigated. prior to reading this, i didn't know blue-sky people even existed as an interesting subculture in the rich tapestry that makes up the american experience. it's original and worth reading.

Gerd Ludwig photography is first-class but I wish written text had been as creative as the photographer's eye. Nothing to discredit the author, Fen Montaigne. But Fen, must you be so boring and bland. A single image captured a thousand words and your text was a dreadful mono-tone grounded in a yawning choice of vocabulary.

If your looking for images and insight text read "The Home Planet" by Kevin W Kelley. Two different subject matters, but the written text illustrates where this book went astray.

Broken Empire leaves an indelible mark on the memory. This stunning work presents a passionate and proud people, ravaged by the merciless process of political change. The book's coverage of the effect on the Russian environmental landscape alone, makes this a documentary of great importance. But most unforgettable, are the images which capture the entire spectrum of human experience that the nation's new self-image has imposed - from humiliation and despair, to dignity and triumph of the spirit against all odds - making this work an uncompromising testament to the historic realities of post-communistic Russia.

Contrary to the cover image of the book, this work clearly takes the blindfolds off in delivering a superb body of photographic work.

I have been traveling to the former Soviet Union now for the past twenty-five years and have always been surprised by how ignorant the world was about this marvelous nation. Ludwig clearly has an intimate feel for the soul of this great world. The images breathe and display the majesty of this people and empire wonderfully, warts and all. This is not a tragic populace, but a noble collection of races and groups who share a common pride, humanism and patriotism with a unique perspective and outlook on life that is both refreshing and vital.

I thought that the Western world would never get it right about the great land and her people, but Ludwig's masterpiece clearly and artfully reveals the nuances of an emerging colossus whose rightful place in history, commerce, politics, art and culture is assured by its dogged determinism to continue, to live, to strive to express the essence that is "Mother Russia".

And to do all of this with photography...what an achievement!!

Dale Carter's excellent "The Final Frontier" traces the history of the US space and aeronautics program from the end of the Second World War onwards, using Thomas Pynchon's magnificent novel "Gravity's Rainbow" as a jumping-off point.

One of the reasons that "Gravity's Rainbow" is such an extraordinary book is Pynchon's remarkable insight into the links between what was to become during the 50s and 60s the US military-industrial complex (exemplified in the book by characters such as Clayton "Bloody" Chiclitz) and the Nazi rocket programme. Pynchon's historical imagination is more vivid and sensitive than any other living American novelist, and GR is the book in which all his gifts spectacularly coalesce. Carter takes the ball and runs with it, showing with admirable concision and clarity how US fears of global subordination during the post-war period expressed themselves in both popular culture (the sudden explosion in UFO sightings post-1947, the amazing growth of science fiction, the baby boom and industrial slump) and in government policy. He carries the rise of what he calls the Rocket State up until the Challenger disaster of 1986. At the time, the loss of the Challenger (and its token Ordinary-Person-as-Crewmember, the schoolteacher Christa McAuliffe) provoked a resurgence in public support for the space program. But in the 14 years since then (and in the 12 since this book was published), it's become fairly clear that the space program has perhaps permanently lost its old appeal for the mass of the American public. Economic recession and domestic problems can no longer be brushed aside with the promise of a new life in space (even Homer Simpson at his lowest ebb dreamt of living under the sea, rather than on Mars.)

The rocket may or may not be permanently tarnished, but Carter's book is an excellent exposition of the factors that helped to reinforce and preserve its appeal. It's also one of the very few essential books about Pynchon's novel, which tends to attract the attention of slow-witted deconstructionists rather than clued-up materialist historians.

The only tiny quibble I have is that Carter is apparently blind to one of the most pervasive features of GR - its relentless sense of humour. While it's true that Pynchon analyses with great acuity the forces in industry and government that converged on the rocket program, he does so with such irrepressible mischief that the reader is left in severe doubt of what to think. But that's a subject for another book.

The US space program has stalled since the late 80s, plagued by cost-cutting and media neglect. It's hard to see how Carter's book could be usefully revised when so little of major significance has happened in the meantime, unless he were to turn his attention to the new paranoia of alien abduction syndrome and its putative links to advanced aviation technology (and if anyone could do it, it's him - if he hasn't done it already). But it's of great interest both to Pynchon fans and those interested in linking up the forces at work in post-war US history. (Which, the US being as powerful as it is, includes most of the rest of the world.)

The author is a well-known former Congressman from Massachusetts who ran for President sometime in the 1980's I believe. His book is written supposedly from a first-hand viewpoint, but in fact I believe Mr. Mitchell had no direct involvement in any of the events of which he writes. The analysis borrows (steals may be the right word) heavily from works on the same subject by Zbigniew Chelitchew and Anastas Mikoyan. The text is full of typographical errors and clearly was not proofread by the author. A C- grade overall.

I'm agnostic about the book, but it should be pointed out that Mr. Mitchell was a Senator from Maine. He did not run for President - that would have been Edmund Muskie, back in the seventies...

A historical treatise. Putting the world in perspective considering all of the elements of societies that we have been and will be faced with. A must read for all of the worlds politicians and anyone interested in who they elect to run their society. A good read for anyone .. period

Tumarkin looks at the continual commemoration of the Second World War in Russia; unfortunately, her account of this fascinating subject is marred by her blatant anti-Soviet feelings and irrelevant personal anecdotes. In a backlash against Stalin and the Soviet's reluctance to name Jews as special victims of the war, she seems at times to forget that the Soviets were persecuted as well, as Bolsheviks and "Untermenschen" Slavs.

Nina Tumarkin gives a scathing critique of what she calls the Soviet "cult" of World War ll -- the Communist Party's gradual transformation of an enormous national tragedy into a glorious, heroic feat. She starts with the early days following Victory, after which Stalin sought to suppress the people's collective memory of the War. He began by demoting Victory Day in 1947 from a state holiday to a regular working day. He banned publication of soldiers' memoirs, claiming that it was "too early... following these great events... and thus the memoirs would not have the required objectivity." (Of course veterans understood that it was not subjectivism that worried Stalin, but rather, fear of unflattering truths emerging.) And within the following two years, amputees and other mutilated survivors began to disappear from the streets, as the evidence of wartime horror was relocated to special "colonies" in the north. It wasn't until well after Khruschev's denunciation of Stalin's regime that Victory Day was reinstated, and the Party began its stage-managing of the War into a triumph of patriotism. Its glorification reached its fervent peak during the Brezhnev years, with massive celebrations taking place every May. Tumarkin makes many fine points about the hypocrisy of pompous ritual while hundreds of thousands of dead still lay unburied on battlefields throughout the country. And how Brezhnev awarded himself undeserved medals for nonexistent wartime valor after so many POWs had rotted away for years in gulags. Unfortunately, the author's derision for gargantuan monuments, grandiose speeches, and collectable kitsch also extends to medal-bedecked "voviy" (contemptuous acronym for veterans, derived from "Velikaya Otechestvennaya Voina", Great Patriotic War), whose elevated status claimed entitlement and privilege. Perhaps she can be forgiven her resentment, after spending her childhood years presenting flowers and accolades to aging veterans and having to endure their "yawn-enducing battle sagas". Perhaps there is truth that the "27-Million Martyrs of the Motherland" are in reality no more than victims, callously sacrificed by an uncaring despot. But such cynicism might then also be extended to the millions of Soviet citizens who suffered under Stalinist policy, or even to the millions of Jews exterminated in the Holocaust. And what of the "heroism" of a mere seven American astronauts disintegrated with Challenger, or three incinerated on the launchpad? Heroism, after all, has less to do with valorous deeds than with enduring and conquering adversity, and providing a courageous example. It would be a shame if rejection of Communist exploitation should mirror Stalin's own cold-hearted abandonment of the true heroes of the Soviet Union. Tumarkin rejoices in the decline of the "cult" of World War ll in her homeland -- "We can put away those records of Russian war songs now!" -- ironically at the same time that American appreciation of our own veterans' heroism is on the rise.

I read this book for pleasure. I am not a scholar on the subject of WWII nor an expert in Soviet politics. I thought the book was great. It taught me more about how "present" WWII still is in Russia, and it really inspired me to want to read more on the topic. A good, interesting read for a layperson!

This book seems to be a supplement to the earlier "Road From Paradise," written by the same authors. In it they continue their analysis of events in post-communist countries, especially in the former Yugoslavia during the Balkan wars. They also continue, somewhat needlessly, their bashing of Francis Fukuyama's "end of history" theory. While I agree that Fukuyama's silly views deserve every criticism, in this book they beat the point to death. It's not like they were the first and only persons to recognize the weaknesses and frequent contradictions in Fukuyama's arguments. In general, this book seems to have been hastily written, and the authors did not take time to refine their ideas and bolster their arguments. In addition, they did not do a good job of proofing and editing their own text, as the text is often repetitive (e.g. on p. 28 they say: "Until recently, Western analysts have tended to display a modernist, globalizing tendency to refer to one USSR, one Yugoslavia, one United States - even one world." Then a few pages later: "For a long time, convention has made one used to thinking of one America, one Yugoslavia and even one Soviet Union"). Also, this careless and hasty writing style led to the inclusion of something I can only hope is a gross error on p. 142: the authors say that Serbia is the "only European nation" to use the Cyrillic alphabet (what about Russia, Ukraine, Bulgaria, etc.?) which they refer to as, quite unbelievably, "outmoded." Statements like these, along with their excessively dwelling on organic views of the nation and nationalism (at points their argument leads them to use that old cliche about "ancient ethnic hatreds"), often make this book seem like an intellectual justification for the type of ethnic prejudices the authors mean to combat.

This book is not really a study of the films of the Perestroika and Yeltsin era. It is more of a sociological study of Russian filmmakers as a class. Faraday presents his thesis (over and over) that late Soviet conditions made the filmmakers a privileged class that resented the restrictions placed on it but failed to connect to popular taste in any meaningful way. Thus when the USSR collapsed, Russian filmmakers were unable to make popular films and became marginalized.

This would have made an interesting article, but as a book, it goes on for too long. Also, it would have been nice if Faraday had actually discussed some of the movies. The only movie he discusses at any length is "Burnt by the Sun," which he dislikes as trite in theme and overly pretty. Overall, this was a disappointment.