Also appearing in this collection is a story I've loved since I first saw the Classic Cartoon version--Rikki Tikki Tavi. It tells the story of an intrepid young mongoose and his life or death battle to protect an Indian villa from a couple of particularly unpleasant cobras. Rikki Tikki Tavi has always seemed to me to be one of the great heroes in all of literature.

These are great stories for young and old. For folks who worry about Kipling's potentially imperialist, racist or racialist overtones (see review), rest assured, these tales are free of such themes. They offer an excellent opportunity to introduce kids to the work of a true master storyteller.

GRADE: A

The book was very well written, interesting, and very entertaining. It's difficult for me to read a large portion classic novels because of the older syntax, grammer, and slang used to write them, but with this book I could easily understand it and get involved with what's going on. As much as it can be said to be a love story it also, to me, is a life story. It's Anthony's life experience of finding love, not simply falling in love. I enjoyed this book very much, but must give it a 4/5 star rating. (You know the old grading technique - never give a perfect grade unless you know for sure it takes the cake and nothing can top it!)

Anthony and Gloria would have fit right in among the Bright Young Things of Fitzgerald's English contemporary Evelyn Waugh's more satirical, far less meaty novels of callous behavior and insincere rich people. Fitzgerald's characters are sincere, however--sincere about expecting that the world should fall at their feet forever, and that earning their way by honest toil isn't the way to go about it. This book is a tale of a destructive marriage in which neither party is more at fault than the other, and in which the greatest sin of both is narcissism (though despair is often not far off as the story moves along).

You've got to hand it to Gloria, though: feminists and individualists of all stripes and sexes will appreciate her paean to self-actualization:

"What grubworms women are to crawl on their bellies through colorless marriages! Marriage was created not to be a background but to need one. Mine is going to be outstanding. It can't, shan't be the setting--it's going to be the performance, the live, lovely glamorous performance, and the world shall be the scenery. I refuse to dedicate my life to posterity."

Wouldn't it be fun to listen to this woman tell stories if she lived to be 80?

For all its beauty, "The Beautiful and Damned" can wear the reader down. It's too long, for one thing, and Anthony and Gloria keep repeating the same mistakes long after Fitzgerald has established that they are the kind of people who don't learn from their mistakes. Fitzgerald fans should definitely give it a try, and if it wears on you by the middle of the book then you should feel no guilt about letting it sit for a while. I should also add that the first seven pages are as enticing an opening as any I've read in an American novel. Every era needs its portraits in fiction, and the 1920s belong to Fitzgerald.

The novel begins with a tip of the hat to that fine progenitor of the novel, "Don Quixote," a Gines-like acknowledgment that Moll, as the author of her own story, cannot complete that story within the text of the novel, unless people can write when they are deceased. Amusements aside, Moll begins her story as Crusoe begins his, with an immediate acknowledgment of the instability of the modern self - the corruption of her own name. Born in Newgate prison, and having never known her mother, Moll finds herself among gypsies and landed gentry before settling in Colchester for the term of her youth. Here, she founds her sense of social ambition, unusual even for Jane Eyre in the 19th century, as one in which she figures to be a gentlewoman by earning her own living. Various mishaps and misadventures lead her through marriages, whoredom, and thievery as Moll attempts to find her place in the world as a woman of common birth. Early on she learns the lessons that will aid her on her journey, viz., the value of money, quick wit, and a sense of her own sexuality.

While Defoe certainly does not sugar-coat the wrongs of woman in the early 18th century - delving deeply into issues of feminine helplessness before the law, the difficulties of procuring stable employment, and various reproductive issues such as adoption, abortion, and infant mortality - yet he maintains a consistent character of Moll as an extremely strong, adaptive, and resilient female character. The most riveting facet of Moll throughout is her own sense of self-worth and importance, especially in her own history. For instance, while chronicling an encounter with a former lover, Moll tells us that while his adventures are worth their own narrative, this is "my story, not his." Moll's strength in the midst of doubt, desperation, and general loneliness keeps the reader's constant interest and admiration.

Defoe's exploration of inter-gender relationships are worthy of note themselves for the sheer variety of social, economic, and personal situations he includes in the novel. The economic theme stands out among these, and provides a link back to the preoccupations of "Robinson Crusoe." Like Crusoe, Moll is always aware of the value of her personal possessions, and conscious of how to exploit and husband her resources to best advantage. Also like Crusoe, "Moll Flanders" is keenly aware of the possibilities and drawbacks of English colonial ventures in America. Defoe's efforts to link all these themes to the lot of the English prison population, the family unit, and indentured servants and African slaves, are all managed extremely well within the text of the novel. For all this, "Moll Flanders" remains an entertaining, satisfying, relevant novel, and stands for me above "Crusoe" as a work of high literary value.

Of course, who am I to review Henry James? Granted, I read more books and watch less television than most of my peers, but still I think I might be too "late Twentieth Century" for this book. Maybe despite my strict avoidance of video games I just can't help detesting the millipede pace of this book. I've never had much affinity for drawing room conversations to begin with, and unlike my father I don't believe that wit must be meted out in tortuous sentences.

But it isn't my background or personal prejudices that make me recoil from "Wings of the Dove". There is something about the deliberate quality of Henry James that bothers me. He knows perfectly well what he's doing with his fat succulent sentences. He won't feed you a meal of lean pork and vegetables. He'll serve you tons of tiny truffles and oil-oozing, crispy skinned duck.

To read "Wings of the Dove" is like encountering a cookbook that decided to include as much of the delicious fatty foods as possible. Of course its a rare meal and quite wonderful in its way. But some how, it made me a little nauseous at the end.

As everybody knows, Hery James is not an easy writer. His appeal is very difficult and complex although it doesn't read very old-fashioned. The story is very interesting and timeless, because it deals with passion, money and betrayal. The books follows Kate Croy and her beloved Merton Densher when then both get involved - in different degrees and with different interests- with the beautiful rich and sick American heiress Milly Theale.

Most of the time, the book kept me wondering what would come next and its result and the grand finale. But, that doesn't mean I was fully understand its words. As I said, I was just feeling what was going on. As a result, i don't think I was able to get all the complexity of Henry James. Maybe, if I read this book again in the futures, it will be clearer.

There is a film version of this novel made in 1997, and starring Helena Bonham Carter, Allison Elliot and Linus Roach, directed by Iain Softley. Carter is amazing as always! Kate is a bit different from the book, she is not only a manipulative soul, but, actually, she is a woman trying to find happiness. One character says of Kate, "There's something going on behind those beautiful lashes", and that's true for most female leads created by James. Watching this movie helped me a lot, after finishing reading the novel.

The text follows the fascinating development of a manipulation: Milly Theale, an American woman, enters the London scene, endowed with prodigious wealth, youth, and beauty, and several characters vie for her affection. It's a standard James plot in that way. Much like Portrait of a Lady, the wealthy American is exploited by her European acquaintances. Kate Croy convinces her lover Merton Densher to take advantage of Milly's interest in him, and to go so far as to attempt to marry the young American for her money. She is, after all, fatally and tragically ill. James brilliantly depicts the struggle between Densher, Kate Croy, her powerful Aunt Maud, the piquant Susan Shepherd, Sir Luke, and Lord Mark, and his characteristically enigmatic ending does not disappoint. James manages to breathe life into these odd characters in a way that so few writers can: his genius is for complex character, and this book embodies that genius at its height.

The trouble with the book, however, is that it does not qualify as a "light read." The pace is incredibly slow - deliberately slow, of course. It is a novel about decisions, and the development of those decisions constitutes the bulk of the novel. James's prose does lack the terseness of a Hemingway, but the latter writer often fails to capture the nuances that James so elaborately evokes in his careful prose.

James, like Faulkner, is not for the faint of heart. Some of his work is more accessible; readers in search of a more palatable James should look to Washington Square, What Maisie Knew, or his popular masterpiece, The Turn of the Screw. This novel does not fit easily into a category, and its principal interest is that very quality of inscrutability. It's not really a "British" or an "American" novel but contains elements of both. It's not "Modern" or "Victorian" but both. Originally published in 1902, it's also not easy to include him in either the 19th or the 20th century. He appears to be writing in both.

In short, then, it's not a light-hearted novel and the prose can be challenging at times. But I believe that the effort of reading this book is well rewarded.

Helen Keller, blind and deaf since the age of 1 1/2 has offered, in her own words an accounting of her life experience. It is incredible to imagine how this woman, unable to see or hear can give such a strong voice to descriptions of nature. The book is replete with beautiful, articulate metaphors that draw the reader into the world as Helen knew it. One wonders how a person with no language can "think," and Helen provides some clues. During these "dark days," prior to the arrival of her "Teacher," Annie Sullivan, Helen's life was a series of desires and impressions. She could commnicate by a series of crude signs she and her parents had created. She demonstrated early on that she could learn.

I like the way Helen herself takes her readers past that water pump when she learned that "all things have a name." Instead of getting stuck there, Helen takes her readers on the journey of her life to that point.

In addition to having a good linguistic base, Helen also demonstrates having a phenomenal memory. When she was twelve, she wrote a story she believed to be her own. Entitled "The Frost King," it bore a strong resemblance to one written by a Ms. Canby called "The Frost Fairies." Many of the sentences are identical and a good number of the descriptions are paraphrased. In relating this devasting incident, Helen and Annie recall that Annie had exposed Helen to the story some three years earlier and Helen had somehow retained that information. This plainly shows intelligence.

Both the "Frost" stories are reprinted in full, thus giving the reader a chance to see just how amazing being able to remember such a work really was.

Helen describes her work raising money for other deaf-blind children to attend the Perkins School for the Blind in Boston and in so doing, embarks upon her lifelong mission as a crusader for multiply challenged individuals.

Keller's autobiography, "The Story of My Life," first appeared in installments in "Ladies' Home Journal" in 1902. This book is truly one of the great American autobiographies: an inspiring story of a courageous individual who overcame tremendous odds.

Keller writes about many things: her childhood in Alabama; her relationship with her beloved teacher, Anne Sullivan; her attendance at the Wright-Humason School for the Deaf in New York City; and meeting such eminent figures as Mark Twain. She especially stresses her love of literature, which she describes as "my Utopia."

Along the way are some fascinating details and profoundly moving passages. Her tribute to the Homer, the blind poet of ancient Greece, is particularly powerful. I also loved her interpretation of the biblical Book of Ruth: a story of "love which can rise above conflicting creeds and deep-seated racial prejudices."

I think that many will regard Keller's autobiography as a mere historical or sociological document. But I think the book deserves a place as a great work of literature, and moreover as a work of literature in the great American tradition. Keller's poetic, often sensuous words about the natural world are comparable to the work of Emily Dickinson. And her stirring account of her revelatory awareness of language reminds me of Frederick Douglass' account of his first awareness of the power of literacy. The book as a whole is enhanced by Keller's charming, likeable literary style.

"The Story of My Life" is a wonderful book by an amazing individual. Helen Keller still has, I believe, much to say to contemporary audiences.

James allows us to perceive the motivations of each of these primary characters and we come to recognise that Catherine is in fact in danger of being deceived. The father who is not a very sympathetic character is insightful enough to do what is necessary in his view to prevent this.

The characters are all well concieved and remain true to type throughout the story.

A bonus is the setting of old New York and the scenes of a growing city are vividly drawn. Imagine a time when moving "uptown" meant moving to what is now the Village.

Overall I really enjoyed this and would highly recommend it

This novella by Henry James finds the prolific author uncharacteristically tight-lipped. It's a good primer to his later, much more challenging Wings of the Dove, which is also about the way money, or the lure of money, ironically cheapens and devalues human relationships. But Wings of the Dove is an experimental novel, where the story is decidedly secondary to James's psychological probings. Washington Square -- more unassuming, more unpretentious, more straightforward -- is also much more disturbing. The central character, Catherine Sloper, is martyred by James right off the bat as "plain," without compensatory wit or intelligence. She has a good heart, but it's implied that this is just a side effect of her rather bovine complacence. Her martinet father can't help but blame her for his beloved wife's death, and her only companion is an insipid, scheming aunt, the kind of woman whose modern day equivalent scours Cosmopolitan for advice on how to land a husband. With no outlet for her untapped stores of affection, and more than one void to fill, the ingenuous Catherine is easy prey -- carrion -- for a handsome and unscrupulous fortune hunter named Morris Townsend.

Accustomed as we are to Jane Austen's tart-tongued heroines, not to mention modern day losers who have a knack for bucking the odds -- Forrest Gump, The Waterboy, almost any other piece of bogus Hollywood populism you care to name -- James's acceptance of Catherine's fundamental unredeemability leaves the reader in the lurch. It gets under your skin. The chilly effectiveness of Washington Square derives partly from the fact that seemingly everyone, author included, is conspiring against poor Catherine. Her aloneness is almost unbearable. We can't help but reflect how happiness is genetic, and that if she had been born with a more expansive personality ( or bust size ) the world of men would be at her disposal. Instead, the reader waits in vain for a reversal of fortune; either Catherine will blossom, her father will learn to love her unconditionally, or she'll come to her senses and shoot down her transparently insincere suitor. Nothing like that happens. In fact, there's the uncomfortable suggestion that Catherine knows she's being strung along, and lets it happen anyway. It's either that or stay home and knit.

By the end of the novel, it's clear that James is attempting something like an American version of Flaubert's Sentimental Education. Both stories track a confused character through a long period of time, zeroing in on their obsession with an unattainable love object. In each novel, the reader's hopes are raised for change, epiphany, victory, only to be rewarded with disappointment, anticlimax, and the ruthless thwarting of expectations. However, where the resigned Flaubert is simply sighing "C'est la vie," James is pointing a few stubby fingers: at capitalism, at stubborn pride, at the simple unfairness of fate. James may seem mostly apathetic to Catherine but he, more than anyone, could relate to the agony of spinsterhood. This book seethes under its mask of propriety.

Magic, Power, and Conspiracy are the foundational thematic elements through which Shakespeare effects Prospero's reintegration into human society. Thrown into a boat with his infant daughter Miranda, Prospero comes to live on a nearly deserted island in the Mediterranean Sea. Prospero's concentration on developing his proficiency in Magic caused him to become alienated from his political and social responsibilities in Milan, leading to his expulsion. His brother Antonio conspired with Alonso, king of Naples, and seized the power Prospero forsook for book-learning.

Prospero hears of a sea voyage undertaken by his enemies, and, using his Magic, whips up a storm, a great tempest, which causes his enemies to be shipwrecked on his island. On the island, Prospero exercises total power - over the education of his daughter, his slave, the deformed Caliban, and now over his enemies. He engages Ariel, a sprite, to orchestrate the division of the traveling party, and to put them through various trials to exact vengeance and ultimately, submission from them.

"The Tempest" is a fine effort from Shakespeare, but the power relations in the play are problematic. Prospero's insistent dominance over the action of the play is extremely troubling. Although he is presented as a benevolent character, Prospero's relationships with Miranda, Caliban, and Ferdinand, King Alonso's son, complicate his overall worth as a man and an authority figure. The dynamic between the slave Caliban and the drunks, Trinculo and Stephano, is also very unsettling.

Overall, "The Tempest" remains a whimsical flight of imagination, while exploring intriguing themes of education, political intrigue, and romance. Certainly, it is still a well-constructed and entertaining play after nearly four hundred years.

The widow gave a story of suspect regarding the couple being roused out of bed by masked men, tying her up and him being abducted. The French authorities, represented by the rivalling local magistrate and Parisian detective, jumped on a series of clues thoughtfully left behind to assist their investigation, but could not agree on the verdict. Meanwhile, Poirot did his own investigation, drawing attention to clues which neither the French and Poirot's companion Hastings could not imagine any significance of.

The mystery was cleverly thought out. However, Christie failed to tie up loose ends, several of the deductions made by Poirot in the middle of the story were inexplicably ignored and forgotten at the unravelling of the case, causing certain inconsistencies.

The primary significance of this book though was on how Hastings got his girl. The love stories in the novel was sweetly done.

One of the unique faces of The Rainbow is its treatment of characters; instead of expanding from individuals, D.H. Lawrence reverses focus and lets the plot drift along. It's impossible to determine which character is the true protagonist because individuality is simply abashed in this banned work. In place of emphasis on characters, Lawrence traces a circuitous journey through three generations-alternating voices of three generations of Brangwen women. Despite the complexity of this novel however, each of these three women are given their space to dictate the path of their own rainbow. The word "journey" itself is repeated frequently enough, and the torch of change is constantly being passed along. The journey traces from the Polish widow to her Brangwen husband, her daughter to another Brangwen, and eventually the "heiress" of Brangwen memories-Ursula. The mother-daughter loop itself is a symbolic journey as the understanding of love is inherited.

As a novel focusing on the very nature of relationships and their connection to love, to sex, and to God, The Rainbow captures the pain and anguish of each woman as they come to possess the fruit of union with a man. And as the daughter gains voice over the ailing mother, the readers come to see how much time leads the mind towards something new. All characters seek illumination of love, and different from conventional romance novels, The Rainbow traces not the journey of one person, but the journey of an understanding. Anna Brangwen, the daughter of Lydia Lensky, finds a lover with whom she develops "a sensuality violent and extreme as death" (280), a relationship that ends in great fecundity. As her fresh and wishful perspective fades, her eldest daughter, Ursula commands the pace as she comes to possession of passion. Through her youthful flirtation with Anton Skrebensky, Ursula grows to be an emotional teacher eager to share her passion, only finding herself shut down by reality into "a hard, insentient thing" (445). Her meager knowledge of love leads her to a physical and emotional affair with Skrebensky as both grope for the truth behind relationships. But this truth is too grand for both of them as they yield to the tempting nature of passion, and let love pass by. But does the journey stop there?

"The primeval darkness falsified to a social mechanism" (499) is indeed the chimera that propels all characters towards the light of human affections. During a time of great changes, men and women cannot help but clang to one thing that seems unscathed-this primordial sense of protection in the bodies of opposite sex. But this need fades so fast as they probe deeper into the soul in search of the amorphous answer that leaves them sleepless. Just as the sun penetrates through the seductive veil of mist, the characters reach a point where physical relationships is a concrete something that does not satisfy. But while they reach in the darkness of lust for the light of emotional union, all falter just as the beautiful array of colors fade away. The sunshine never fails to reach earth, but it never fails to trick wild hearts into the trap of a surreal realm of love-the paradise beyond the rainbow.

This work is sometimes criticized because of "repetitiveness" in the writing, but I find the repeated phrases add to, not detract from, the power of the novel. As in Lady Chatterley, he also manages to work in many brilliant and cutting observations of the price of progress in an industrial society, and document in careful, keen-eyed accuracy the varying responses of his characters--and, through them, archetypal human responses--to that society.

MOE HOWARD AND THE THREE STOOGES (by Moe Howard himself) *
THE THREE STOOGES SCRAPBOOK (co-authored by Moe's daughter) *
CURLY (again, co-authored by Moe's daughter) *
THE COMPLETE THREE STOOGES (by Dr. Jon Solomon)...

Those are the books you should buy!

If you decide otherwise, this book is a nice simple read, with nothing new to offer. There are better ways to learn about the Three Stooges.

Now the Three Stooges were certainly "good of kind." They never could have done Oscar Wilde (or perhaps they could have?)or even rise to the level of Laurel and Hardy (again, perhaps...). But what they did, they did for the most part well. The original theater company that did "Lysistrata" would have welcomed them, as would some medieval troupes that toured the provences with less than high-tone routines.

Mr. Fleming's book was given to me as a Christmas gift from my daughter on New Year's Eve, just in time for me to start taping AMC's Three Stooges marathon. Since a good percent of this book is a series of resumes of each Stooge short from the very first "Woman Haters" to the 190th "Sappy Bullfighters," this gift could not have been more opportune. (Would you believe that each episode has appended to it a count of how many slaps, head conks, and pie throwing took place in each film?) This section provides me with a wonderful checklist to see which ones I am still missing.

But even before that, we have the wonderful account of how these three/four got to be the mainstay of the Columbia lot and how they kept that position without ever knowing about it, since their bosses kept their value a secret from them.

The saddest part is certainly the section about Curley's growing deterioration leading up to his collapse in the film #97 and Shemp's replacing him in film #98.

The only error I can find (other than a disputed number of pies thrown in an episode here and there) is misnaming "Mutts to You" as "Nuts to You."

So if this topic is for you, this book certainly is. As much fun to read as to use as a reference tool for all Stoogephiles.