In the 1970s, Actor Robin Ellis attracted fame across the world when he appeared as the central character, Ross, in the BBC's two POLDARK series. Based on a series of books written by Winston Graham, the trials and tribulations of the Poldark family have since developed a cult following. The residents of Cornwall love the series because it exploits their locale, while historical buffs and costumers like to discuss and reenact the characters. MAKING POLDARK is Ellis's memoirs of filming the series and it's like reading a letter from an old friend.

This slim 1978 book opens with Ellis's job interviews for the part of Ross Poldark and most of his narration details his memories through the wrap of the second series. It ends with a brief summary of the work he's done since then. The 1987 edition updates the info provided in the first. These 88 pages are loaded with black and white photos from the filming of both the POLDARK series and a few from roles (most of them in period settings) Ellis has taken at other times in his career.

The concept of this book was pitched to its publisher by a Cornish bookseller, presumably thinking it would make a good souvenir for the local tourist trade. The ease of starting the project was a good indication that it would be completed. The first thought was that Ellis would tape conversations and a ghostwriter would do the grunt work. In the end, Ellis composed the book himself, during those days just before the increasing popularity of word processors, in (*wowsy*) "painstaking longhand."

In all due respect and honesty, the prose lacks some polish. He dives straight into "the action" without giving his overall assessment how the experience of playing Ross Poldark affected him. Obviously it kept him employed for over two years and it is the role he is most widely known for, but how did it compare to his participation in ELIZABETH R, where he's barely recognizable; FAWLTY TOWERS; or THE MOONSTONE, for instance? However, there is a charm in having his viewpoint in his own "voice" (and it's such a provocative one). It feels like one friend telling another about a year's trip he took abroad.

Some of the behind-the-scenes info is obviously going to appeal to any serious POLDARK fan. According to Ellis, Graham was disappointed in how the first series handled the catalyst that spurred Ross and Demelza to marry. This was probably the biggest liberty the TV series took with the storyline, but this reviewer quite frankly saw it as an improvement. The alteration was much more passionate and heightened the tension level of the situation for the rest of the series without any major deviations from its final outcome.

Among some of the related topics Ellis covers are the competitive nature of Richard Morant, who played Dwight Enys in the first series, and a Poldark vs. Warleggan cricket match amidst the filming of the second. He supplies an account of his work at the Royal Shakespeare Company during the interim between the two series. He describes the rigors of filming in "France" (actually Lerryn Creek in Cornwall).

All in all, MAKING POLDARK is a friendly must have for all Poldark fans. People unfamiliar with the series may not be able to appreciate it, but it is an excellent primary resource for anyone looking for background material. It should also appeal Robin Ellis fans who would like to become a little better acquainted with the actor and his approach to the profession.

Those of you who cannot understand chemistry either because the teacher does not know how to teach or you really do not want to listen...THIS BOOK IS FOR YOU. The book is a nice manual for those who cannot comprehend chemistry. It will be like your virtual teacher in print. My only complain about this book is that it is too long. But at least it is comprehensive. And what I like most in this book is it is divided into many sections which made it easier to digest.

A great gothic romance where three women in different generations become mistresses of a great house on "land stolen from the sea." As is typical in gothic romances, murder attacks the shadowy figures of the family, leaving the strong heroines to solve it. You don't find a weak femme fatale in Moorhaven -- although the historic period suggests the helpless female type. I love gothic romances, and this one is a hit.

Austrian novelist, playwright and screenwriter Peter Handke is someone who seeks to alienate his work from the artificiality of life; in doing so his work, itself, becomes rather alienating.

Handke first gained attention in 1966 when he denounced Günter Grass and Heinrich Boll for, as he saw it, compromising the novel by making it a vehicle for social criticism. Like many French writers, Handke believed that novelists should register conscious experiences only, and then render them as austerely as possible.

Handke is a novelist who never creates a character. Instead, he folds his characters into his prose. He never constructs a real plot. Instead, he chronicles the very plotlessness (and pointlessness) of life. Handke finally decided that writers had their own personal stories to tell rather than telling those of the characters they made up. His novel, The Afternoon of a Writer told the story of, the afternoon of a writer. No more, no less.

My Year in the No-Man's Bay is the sequel to The Afternoon of a Writer. Although many readers may find this novel's content to be less-than-stimulating, I don't think anyone could say its structure is less-than-breathtaking.

The protagonist is a fifty-five year old writer who attempts to recall a year long artistic and spiritual metamorphosis. This writer is poetically named Gregor Keuschnig, and is known only as Gregor K. (Those who are at all familiar with Handke will immediately recognize this as a jab at Kafka, one of Handke's least favorite authors.) Gregor, who is obviously Handke's alter-ego, has grown disenchanted with both city life and country life and has moved to the suburbs of Paris instead. The city and the countryside, says Gregor, have been much overused as the setting in more traditional novels.

Throughout the book, Gregor uses the French word, banlieue, for suburb. But banlieue could also mean "place of the outlaws," and, as such, it represents for Gregor, a chance to mine new linguistic and narrative terrain; a sort of "no-man's bay," a nameless body of water. (Apparently American writers who are notorious for setting their novels in the suburbs, John Updike, in particular, have escaped Handke's notice.)

Gregor first writes at length about the difficulties and problems all writers face, bringing us right up to the year of his metamorphosis in the suburbs which is what he really wants to describe in the first place. He has a very difficult time doing so, however, as he gets bogged down time and again in what he calls "prehistories."

The novel's last section, The Day, is a section in which Gregor collapses all time together. His year of metamorphosis, we come to realize, could be the year he is writing about or the year he is writing in or the year in which one of his "stories" takes place. It is up to the reader to decide.

Life, itself, intrudes on Gregor's writing abilities until his novel and his life become one and the same, inseparable. What he visualizes as being of no consequence, the stuff of novels, has become his daily world. Or, has his daily world become the stuff of his novel?

My Year in the No-Man's Bay can, at times, be a very intellectually stimulating book but, unfortunately, it is also very dry. Handke's reliance on theme over character and plot might be a good idea, but in this book, at least, it is really not believable and certainly not engrossing. At least not all of the time.

This book is certainly not all bad. Gregor's wife, Ana, despite Handke's intentions to ignore character, is particularly engrossing, as is Heraclitus, one of the novel's spirits. Unfortunately, most of My Year in the No-man's Bay is narcissistic, spiritual pretension. Handke likens both Gregor and the character of Valentin to Christ. He feels that both St. Paul and St. John are but kindred spirits and he even goes so far as to liken Gregor's metamorphosis with Christ's resurrection.

Handke co-wrote the screenplay for Wenders's Wings of Desire, a stunning movie about angels who descend to earth. In My Year in the No-Man's Bay, he seems to have taken the tremendous success of Wings of Desire a little too much too heart (although Wings deserved all the success that was heaped upon it). In this book Handke constantly make references to wings and to angels that just don't work. Unfortunately, in his desire to kill off everything that is pretentious and artificial in the novel, Handke has killed off everything that is human as well. My Year in the No-Man's Bay is still a book well worth reading, but only if a highly thematic, plotless book is one that suits your style.

I read this book in both English and in the original German. I did find the English translation to be clumsy and overly-literal. Handke always writes a gorgeous, mesmerizing German that is both winding and spare and always elegant and, if you can read German and want to read this book, the original is the far, far better choice.

This is an anthology of the works of Philo of Alexandria, thankfully translated in a clear, modern style, and well-annotated. The introduction helps familiarize the reader with Philo, a Hellenized, possibly Pharasaic, Jew, who is also a Platonist. Major themes are explored: Theory of Creation, Mysticism and Significance. The body of the book contains two complete treatises: "The Contemplative Life", which concerns a monastic Jewish sect at Lake Mareotis, and "The Giants", which concerns what was apparently something of an obsession among intertestamental Jews, the single verse of Genesis (6:2) in which the sons of God mate with human women. These treatises are both short, and produce, in a sense, a justification for the approach of the rest of the book. Philo's style is both rhapsodic and digressive, so that any alleged topic can veer off in a number of marginally related directions. The bulk of the book, over 200 pages, is devoted to selections from all of Philo's treatises, titled by the translator, generally a paragraph in length, but sometimes running to a couple of pages. These are grouped according to 13 topics: I. Autobiographical, II. Scriptural Exegesis, III. Divine Mind, IV. Cosmogony, V. Souls, Angels and Daemons, VI. Divine Transcendence, VII. Knowledge and Prophecy, VIII.Worship, IX. Mysticism, X. Providence, Theodicy and Miracles, XI. Ethical Theory, XII. Moses and the Law, XIII.Universalism and Particularism. The only complaint I have is that due to editorial laziness, informative headers are not present in the selections section to inform the reader exactly which topic any given page falls under. Other than that, this is very good.

When Winston Graham wrote his Poldark series, most of his inspiration came from Cornwall. He lived there for 30 years, admiring the duchy's rugged terrain and absorbing knowledge of its people, culture, and history. In POLDARK'S CORNWALL, he provides his devotees a glimpse of the background of his beloved characters.

This is a small coffee table book (approximately 7.5" x 10" in hardback) loaded with pictures of the magnificent Cornish countryside and its structures. Also included are photos of the author and native Cornish folk. The photos are accompanied by text where Graham reminisces about his life, work, and desire to prevent Cornwall from becoming an overdeveloped wasteland.

Despite the success he had with his contemporary thrillers, particularly MARNIE, the trials and tribulations of the Poldark family--which was an eleven-novel saga--have achieved a cult status amongst its fans. There is some irony since he never intended to write another when he did the first one, ROSS POLDARK (a.k.a. THE RENEGADE). Most of this is down to the widespread distribution of the splendid BBC-TV series produced in the 70s. The actors, led by Robin Ellis and Angharad Rees, made the characters so likeable viewers easily forgave any discrepancies their appearances had with the novel descriptions. Graham records his thoughts and participation on the TV adaptions of the first seven Poldark novels. There is also a presumption that the reader has seen both the TV series.

Of special interest are some of the historical sources he cites for the Poldark series. After a mining accident, Doctor Dwight Enys saves a man's life with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It seemed like a far-fetched detail at first, until Graham credits documentation where a man in the 18th century actually used what is now common first aid. A couple of photos depict Trerice Manor, which was Graham's model for Trenwith. The producers, however, instead used Godolphin Hall in the first TV series.

The accounts of contemporary regional daily life are intriguing. Cornwall suffers from the ravages of its past mining industry. Large holes can suddenly appear when an old mine tunnel collapses and woe to the homes that are built directly over one.

Graham elaborates on his distaste of heavy development and tourism in the county, explaining he even went out of his way to buy a lot that had the ruins of an old tin stamp on it so someone else wouldn't rebuild on it. While Graham lived in Cornwall, a local businessman, who still used similar old equipment, called on Graham at home. The stranger asked if he could buy some repair parts from what remained on Graham's property. They chatted a while after Graham agreed to let him have it, when the stranger went on a tirade about how writers who exploited the Cornish countryside were destroying it by attracting too many sightseers. When Graham asked the stranger if he was thinking of any writer in particular, he answered, "Well, this chap Winston Graham, for instance."

Simon McBride took both color and black and white photos for this book. Most of them capture the breathtaking Cornish scenery, but shots of the buildings, people, and animals supply more flavor of the region. The quality and assortment of the pictures give readers who have never been there a good feel of the majesty of its landscape.

The actual construction of this 1983 hardbound copy is a disappointment. Some of the signatures in its binding loosened. The twine used to sew the heavy paper together weighs light for the stress it has to bear. The stitching also misses a row or two. Even worse, the glue that is supposed to give the spine sturdiness was either applied too sparingly or the wrong variety, since the paper stock is slick. Anyone anxious to keep this Bodley Head-Webb & Bower edition for posterity may face having to rebind it later.

Graham says he no longer lives in Cornwall because the climate there is bad for his wife's health, but visits frequently. POLDARK'S CORNWALL provides great background material on the series, author, and settings made so popular by such marvelous cast of characters in such brilliant storylines.

Intertwining Identities

Hannah Arendt's Rachel Varnhagen: The Life of a Jewess is the biography of Varnhagen that simultaneously attempts to define Rahel Varnhagen's gender and national identity as a resident in early 19th century Germany in Varnhagen's own terms, while Arendt refines her political theory. Rachel Varnhagen is portrayed throughout the book as a complex character; a Jewish woman in a German society at the dawn and immediate following years of the Napoleonic Revolution. Arendt is an accomplished political-philosopher who despised being called a philosopher. Arendt's rise to academic prominence came when she wrote Eichmann in Jerusalem; Eichmann was where she coined the phrase "banality of evil" in reference to the famous trial of the Nazi Adolph Eichmann. Arendt was on assignment in Jerusalem for the Eichmann trial as a reporter for Harper's because she could not attain a university teaching position. Arendt had not successfully completed the monograph that was to be her Ph.D. dissertation. During the National Socialist ascension to power in 1933 Arendt was forced into exile, therefore hindering the completion of the biography of Varnhagen and her doctoral dissertation.

Arendt studied under Karl Jaspers and Martin Heidegger the later of which she had an affair. She is most known in political philosophy circles for her study of totalitarian regimes in Origins of Totalitarianism. Arendt collected the published and unpublished letters of the famous salon, bourgeoisie-oriented Varnhagen to map Varnhagen's identity through the inner voice she reveals in her letters. Through reading the letters it is evident that Varnhagen is practically apolitical, but she struggles with her German-Jewish identity and her life as a woman. Arendt explores the complexities of this dynamic through attempting to slip into Varnhagen and convey to the reader Varnhagen's existence. While in the process of amalgamating the various stories of Varnhagen, Arendt also devises her political theory.

Varhagen was at the center of an aristocratic salon where literature and culture were often discussed and she was viewed as a Jewish exception to anti-Semitism. It was believed at the beginning of the nineteenth century that all anti-Semites had their exceptional Jew, and for the many attendees of Varnhagen's salon it was Rahel. In adding her political theory into the construction of Varnhagen's biography Arendt spares Varnhagen no sympathy, often thinking that these very exceptions furthered the anti-Semitic cause.

In essence what Arendt has done is constructed a philosophical-psychological biography delving into the subject's mind, breaking the barrier between subject and observer by using the letters as a background to reconstruct the thoughts of Varnhagen. Varnhagen wrote her letters as a narrative, waiting and watching for life to unfold, unwilling to participate in introspection. Fearing that contemplation of the past might lead to her rejecting her identity and denial of her self-asserted uniqueness.

Varnhagen befriended many of the most prominent novelists and poets; her salon suggested a milieu of sophistication. However, Varnhagen's letters allowed Arendt intense introspection on the feeling of being a Jew in a largely anti-Semitic culture and being a woman in a misogynist culture. Arendt's political theory is never more evident then when she wears the skin of Varnhagen and talks about the Jewish question. Arendt believes that the common Jew attempted to escape their Jewishness (Varnhagen was baptized) only to allow other Jews to flounder in their Jewishness; each individual sought to break from the community at the cost of leaving the others to be victims of virulent anti-Semitism. Arendt is at her sharpest when she philosophizes on the impact of the Napoleonic Revolution on Jews, "it would be incomparably more difficult to escape from a reformed Judaism than from orthodox Judaism; that association for the assimilation of the Jews could lead ultimately to nothing but the preservation of Judaism in a form more suited to the times (179)."

In the preface to the book Arendt says, "It was never my intention to write a book about Rahel; about her personality, which might lend itself to various interpretations according to the psychological standards and categories that the author introduces from outside; nor about her position in Romanticism and the effect of the Goethe culture in Berlin, of which she was actually the originator; nor about the significance of her salon for the social history of the period; nor about her ideas and her "weltanschauung," in so far as these can be constructed from her letters. What interests me solely was to narrate the story of Rahel's life as she herself might have told it. (81)

Rahel believed she let life happen to her and simply observed and recorded her situations. She was, "letting life rain upon her." She was an prophetic individual that simply aspired to convey what happened to her as destiny. But in this role as intermediary recorder of the past she observed and her unknown, but unconscionable future destiny she thought she was an exception; one that must succumb to destiny, but not attempt to influence it. An individual that was so shortsighted that she failed to consider the fact that the destiny that awaited her, the history that was being revealed and shaped her life was less important than her own life. She was romanticized by contemplation of the past and its unraveling into the future of which she only thought she was a part. Varnhagen was a paradox; waiting like everyone else for history and life to happen but yet she continued to assert her uniqueness. Varnhagen attempts to solve the paradox by waiting for history to unveil, but not discover who she was-only what she could be. In the physical world Varnhagen could not deny her Jewishness, but she aspired to be malleable, devoid of shape and identity, traveling on the waves of history as they splashed on the shores of her continuously unfolding destiny. Arendt best summarizes Varnhagen by saying, "she wished to stand outside reality, to merely take pleasure in the real, to provide the soil for the history and the destinies of many people without having any ground of her own to stand on (145)."

Written when he was 23, Savrola was Churchill's only novel. It embodies his personal philosophy on life, which was to govern his later military and political career. For those who know of his later exploits, it provides an amazing foreshadowing of events in his own life. Though the plot is sometimes clumsy, there are flashes of poignancy in his prose that are deeply insightful for a man of his age.

Excellent treatment of bipolar junction transistor (BJT) physics in a very tutorial, readable style. Covers many topics in a lucid, intuitive and insightful manner, such as space-charge limited currents, surface recombination velocity, and ohmic contacts, where the discussions are a large cut above other introductory texts. Also covers MOSFETs and PN junctions, but nothing unusual here. There is little information on heterojunctions, optical and microwave devices. Overall, it is the "light" version of an earlier work "Transistors" by Warner and Grung, Wiley, 1983.

Very readable book on this interesting subject. The author beautifully illuminates both personalities and those around them. He does not hesitate to throw in a little sly humor such as when he refers to the king's "sidekicks" which he then translates into latin in parenthesis: (stipatores lateres). Scholarly and entertaining.