Henry James's, "The Bostonians," is a simple, but increasingly entertaining love story set in the years soon after the end of the Civil War. Basil Ransom, a true Southern gentleman from Mississippi, has moved North (specifically, to New York City) to try and start a career away from the impoverished South of the Reconstruction days. Shortly after moving North, he pays a visit, at her behest, to the Boston house of his distant cousin, Olive Chancellor. Olive, a stalwart in the women's rights movement of the time, invites Basil to her home in order to offer help and assistance to her Southern cousin, but she also wishes to save him from the flawed ways he certainly must have taken on growing up in the South. Her self-seeking, ulterior motives fail miserably, of course.

It is through Olive that Basil Ransom meets Verena Tarrant, the young woman who has left her lower middle-class family to move in with and be molded by Olive. Verena has a tremendous speaking ability which caught Olive's (and the other women's (womyn's?) movement leaders') attention. But ultimately, Verena also catches Basil's attention... not for her feminist diatribes, but for her beauty and the passion of her speeches. Basil is instantly struck by Verena, and from this point onward the plot focuses as Basil attempts to seek out his love interest who is highly guarded by Olive, Verena's parents, and several others.

The dialogue between Olive and her friends with Basil Ransom, is a constant back and forth that is civil on the surface, but boiling with hostility underneath the social niceties. While Basil is always cool and focused as he tracks the object of his love, Olive Chancellor only becomes more paranoid as she sees that she is gradually losing her young charge... to a Southern Neanderthal. "The Bostonians" meanders through the first couple hundred pages with witty dialogue between the alien Basil and his new peers, but as his focus intensifies, so does the plot. James draws all this circling and stalking into a final, climactic scene that many will be cheering, but one that many modern-day feminists and their sympathizers will be cursing.

The astonishing thing about this book -- and a lot of Henry James's writing -- is his insight into the problems of women. This book deals with the problem of independence and freedom. Most of us, let's admit it, love the idea of being swept off our feet by some competent, assertive male. It's a real turn-on. If you don't believe it, check out how many successful professional women secretly read historical romances by the boxload. The problem comes the next morning when he starts to take control, bit by bit, of your entire life. In this book you have Olive, who is not, I think, a lesbian but someone who is very lonely and doesn't trust men and Verena, who likes men just fine, but is, for the moment anyway, under the spell of Olive and her feminist ideology. Are these our only options? Verena Makes her choice, but James notes that the tears she sheds may not, unhappily, be her last.

When he says the "Bostonians" he means "the lesbians." I was pretty interested in the story of a Boston marriage, but it got increasingly mean-spirited toward the end, when the dashing right-wing Mississippian convinces the young woman to leave the older one and a full suffrage lecture-hall and run away with him-- she finds it seductive to be told she must have no will of her own.

I went looking for criticism of this book and found little in Gale, but two essays from 1990s by Wendy Lesser and Alison Lurie. Lesser argues against the feminist line that the book is a misogynist polemic; she responds that Olive (the lesbian) and Basil (the Mississippian) are both complex characters, sometimes weak, sometimes strong and sympathetic. (She quotes Hardwick that James is our best female novelist because his women are powerful and interesting.) Lurie looks at the novel as more about politics than gender: James came home from Europe and found he hated America; showed the South re-conquering the North in Basil's conquest of Verena.

I disagree with Lesser: Basil is shown as naive and occasionally weak but dashing and full-hearted -- I'm sure he is an idealized self-portrait of James. Olive is honest and principled but so bleak and unhappy that her love is purely destructive. Her strength lies less in her principles (Mrs. Birdseye after all is equally principled but utterly weak) than in her vaulting ambition. She reminds me of Dixon's Thaddeus Stevens in The Klansman -- passionate, scheming, perversely principled, but essentially evil. Both come from Milton's Satan, seen as a Yankee.

Which brings me to Lurie's version. I agree with her that the novel is about politics, but disagree that he was writing against America -- I think he was just writing against Boston. The hostility the novel met at the time stemmed from his nasty portrait of the old transcendalist Elizabeth Peabody (his minor character Mrs. Birdseye); this is a less irrelevant reaction than critics portray it, since she's a stand-in for everything he despises about his own Boston roots, a hatred which drives the novel. An equally weak but even more despicable character is Verena's father, a mystical fraud whose nomadic career has certain resemblances to James's father's -- resemblances strengthened if Verena is modeled on Alice James. The Boston reform tradition is alternately weak-minded and hard-edged, and basically loveless -- a spirit of drafty wet lecturehalls. Where Basil is hot-blooded -- he feels about Mississippi a tragic love he can't bear to speak of in conversation -- Olive's New England feeling is only cold philosophy.

How real is the political alternative which Basil represents? We see much less of him than of Olive; James knew Boston but not Mississippi. But I think James like some of his peers yearned for a certain reactionary romanticism which northern intellectuals associated with the South -- a Burkean spirit of cavaliers and kings. (Basil's name means "king," and his emerging career is writing political essays said to be hundreds of years out of date.) Basil's defeat of Olive to marry Verena -- he imagines his own seizure of her from the podium of Fanuiel Hall as a political assassination, with shades of John Wilkes Booth -- is clearly a re-conquest of the North by the old South. What he offers for an American future is less Enlightenment, more Middle Ages -- less rights, more responsiblities -- less cold charity, more warm friendship.

James/ Basil reminds me of Henry Adams in the "Education." On the one hand, Adams saw the warm (mildly homoerotic) friendship of exceptional men (modeled on himself and John Hay) as a strategy for national progress. On the other, Adams developed a similarly St. Gaudensian aesthetic of the medieval -- the cathedral against the dynamo. This was the first, aesteticist reaction of the northern elite to the soullessness of postbellum America, which we forget because it was replaced by Teddy Roosevelt's more muscular alternative.

Now, I'm not saying that Mirrorshades was bad. Not only did it contain one of the most definitive PR essays on cyberpunk (Sterling's introduction) but it also conains some very good stories. On the other hand, it could have been much, much, MUCH better.

Bruce Sterling, who edited Mirrorshades and similarly hand-picked the stories, clearly has his own agenda to the particular stories...at least, in some cases. Sterling assembled this almost as if it were an extension of his short-run newsletter, Cheap Truth (which he wrote under an assumed name of Omniveritas). In Cheap Truth, he attacked the existing science-fiction structure. He continues this trend in Mirrorshades.

The clearest example would be his choice of Gibson short work. Of the possible short stories, he picked The Gernsback Continuum and Red Star, Winter Orbit. Gernsback Continuum is, simply, not cyberpunk. It is Gibson's attack on Gernsbackian science fiction (Hugo Gernsback was really to blame for the "fantastic" science-fiction which used amazing gadgetry and no actual ideas). Sterling's view of the Movement (cyberpunk lit) was to erase the old Gernsbackian sf and replace it with real life rather than daydreams, so he picked this story as Gibson's contribution. This is absurd. The definitive cyberpunk short story is Burning Chrome. It is clear that Sterling chose to further his own political ends as opposed to providing a good overview-the best of the best-of cyberpunk fiction.

I could also have done without Sterling's final story, Mozart with Mirrorshades. This was, of course, an attempt to weave in the token item of the genre, the mirrored sunglasses. Sterling would have been much better off to include one of his Shaper-Mechanist stories, especially Spider Rose or Swarm. These stories are much better realized-and much more cyberpunk-than his choice. I would also have liked to see a more appropriate Rucker story...Rucker is great, but Tales of Houdini just wasn't appropriate.

Still, there are some great stories in here. Cadigan, Shirley, Shiner, Bear, Maddox, and others all contribute great works. If anything, Mirrorshades should be a starting point; find authors you like here, and then read the really groundbreaking stuff by them; John Shirley's Eclipse trilogy, everything by Gibson, Bear's Blood Music, Cadigan's Synners, Mindplayers, and Tea from an Empty cup, Rucker's Software trilogy, Sterling's Schismatrix, Maddox's Halo, and so forth.

However, if you want to simply read good cyberpunk short fiction, get the short story collections by the individual authors. As I said before, this is just a jumping-off point.

This is a collection of short stories by authors associated with the "cyberpunk movement" within the science fiction field. I enjoyed the book overall, but I wouldn't necessarily call this a representation of cyberpunk. In fact, three of the stories to me (and more among others) absolutely do not qualify as such, and two of them actually seem to be more rooted in the fantasy field than anything else. However, it's a good read, definitely worth it for the stories by Willam Gibson, both solo and collaborative. Interestingly, my favorite was "Petra" by Greg Bear, which is one of the fantasies I referred to: a very original idea and superbly written.

One final thing: if someone understands "Tales of Houdini", please contact me and explain. I just don't get it!

This book is a collection of cyberpunk stories assembled by Bruce Sterling. It is supposedly the definitive cyberpunk fiction collection. There are some really good stories in the book such as the Gernsback Continuum, Solstice, Freezone, Till Human Voices Wake Us, Stone Lives, and Mozart with Mirrorshades. These tales had advanced technological concepts and more importantly, good stories. The stories touched on gene engineering, time travel, cybernetics, and other popular cyberpunk themes. Some of the other stories were pretty interesting, but some just didn't seem to fit. For example, Tales of Houdini and Petra seemed out of place in this collection. Though they were both sci-fi tales, they didn't seem to be cyberpunk.

Hedda Gabler is a wonderful story of a woman desperately trying to have control over her life. Married to a husband she doesn't love and pregnant with a child she doesn't want, Hedda seeks comfort in an old friend. There are enough surprizes in this play to keep it interesting throughout. Ibsen uses his brilliant writing style to capture the very essence of Hedda. I highly recommend Hedda Gabler as well as other works by Henrik Ibsen.

Hedda Gabler lives in an absolute prison. Her idylic residence is a prison, her marriage to a hopeful "ilustrious intellectual" is a prison, but above all, she lives imprisoned by herself, trapped by the social parameters that demand her to live the way she does. Hedda just can't figure out how to get out of that tedious state. She's intelligent, cold, severe; Gabler has an almost prodigious capacity to obtain all the information she inquires about the people around her; she manipulates them, she seems to get involved, but she simply tries to take advantage of the situation. Apparently, she doesn't feel much, but in reality, Hedda is in constant turmoil - her involvement has to do, almost exclusively, with what she just cannot allow herself to do.

For this woman, being able to have some sort of "power" over someone becomes the most exciting of all experiences, however - there's a point when she no longer will be able to manipulate the situation on her favor, she will realize how many forces have power over her; therefore, she will simply do the most congruent and coherent of things, as unexpected and shocking as the outcome of this play could possibly be.

Hedda Gabler is a play filled with tensions and the theme of power play. Personally, I feel that Hedda Gabler is a reflection of a woman trapped in the wrong time. She is one who wants power but is denied of it due to her gender and also her status in the society and all that she needs is to just sit at home and recieve visitors. She has no aims to look forward to and I believe that it is suffocating for this woman. If she had been born in this time of the century, I believe that she would not land up in that patathic end.

Almost as good as Bleak House. Two shortcomings, though. One, the poetry of the language never reaches the same heights. Dickens just doesn't seem as inspired here, and there are moments when he even seems tired and to be suffering from the same disappointment his characters complain of. Two, the mystery theme is pushed to the background and is lame in comparison. Otherwise, the structure is excellent, weaving the themes of the Circumlocution Office and self-imprisonment relatively seamlessly through the story.

One reviewer here has commented that "Little Dorrit" is not without Dickens' trademark humor, and, with one qualification, I would agree. Mr F's Aunt, Mrs Plornish, and Edmund Sparkler in particular are all quite funny. Characters like William Dorrit and Flora Finching, however, who would have been funny in earlier books (eg, Wilkins Micawber and Dora Spenlow in "David Copperfield" it can be argued, are younger - and more romantic - versions of Dorrit and Flora) are only pathetic in this one. It is a sign of the change in Dickens that he can no longer see the lighter side of these characters.

BTW, there is another little joke for those versed in Victorian Lit. The comedic couple Edmond Sparkler and Fanny Dorrit are a play on an earlier couple, Edmond Bertram and Fanny Price in Jane Austen's "Mansfield Park". The joke is that Dickens has taken the names and inverted the characters. Fanny Dorrit couldn't be more different than Fanny Price, and likewise Edmond Sparkler and Edmond Bertram. I'm sure this is not an accident. Dickens had a thing for the name Fanny, using it for two of his less appealing "temptresses", Fanny Squeers (in "Nicholas Nickleby") and of course Fanny Dorrit. Funny stuff.

And speaking of Fanny Dorrit, I have one last comment. It is often said of Dickens that he couldn't create good female characters. This puts me in mind of Chesterton who related a similar complaint made by Dickens' male contemporaries that he couldn't describe a gentleman. As Chesterton deftly pointed out, however, what these gentlemen really meant was that Dickens couldn't (or wouldn't) describe gentlemen as they wished themselves to be described. Rather, Dickens described gentlemen as they actually appeared. I might say the same thing about the women who complain about Dickens' female characters. It's not so much that Dickens couldn't (or wouldn't) describe good female characters. Rather, it's that the kinds of characters he did describe aren't the ones the complanaints wish to see. Women praise the Elizabeth Bennetts of the book-world not because the real world is full of Liz Bennetts (it's not), but because that's the way they themselves wish to be seen. Truth is, however, there are far more Fanny Dorrits and Flora Finchings and Dora Spenlows than there are Liz Bennetts. The women who complain of these characters, though, would rather ignore this unflattering little fact. Whatever. The truth will out, and there's far too much truth in Dickens characters to be so lightly dismissed.

4 1/2 stars

Dickens' last novels (with the exception of the unfinished EDWIN DROOD) really form a group all to themselves: exceptionally concerned with the excesses of social institutions and the cruelties of high society, they in some ways read more like Trollope and Thackeray than they do Dickens' own earlier works, although they retain Dickens's fine gift for character and bite. LITTLE DORRIT is proabbly my favorite of the later works: its multiple stories are extremely gripping, and his satire at its sharpest and most necessary. Many people say these later novels are not as funny as his earlier works, but DORRIT is to me an exception: there are few funnier (or more dear) characters in Dickens' repertoire than the breathless, kindhearted Flora Finching, and I find myself almost helpless with laughter whenever Flora's senile and hostile charge, Mr F's Aunt, makes her perfectly doled-out appearances in these pages. (Arguably the funniest scene Dickens ever wrote is the scene with this "most excellent woman" and Arthur Clennam and the crust of bread). This is a great Dickens novel even for people who tend not to like Dickens (and yes, there are some of them, as hard as that may be for the rest of us to believe).

Little Dorritt is not light reading. While it is in many ways a very entertaining work, it is not for those seeking pure entertainment. It is a very rich work, full of social commentary [church bells ringing, "They won't come."; the Circumlocution Office], humor [can anyone resist laughing out loud and Flora Finching?], several memorable characters, and a very powerful statement on personal salvation.

Yes, the novel does drag from halfway to the three quarters mark; but what 900 page Dickens novel doesn't? When you read Dickens, you should expect that. It is during that time that he typically starts to resolve many of the issues raised in the first half and also sets up his exciting finale. While the finale of Little Dorritt is not exciting in the Hollywood sense, it is very fulfilling.

The major theme that spans the entire work, something I haven't seen others discuss, is that of Old Testament vs. New Testament thinking. It is the Old Testament thinking of Arthur's mother that keeps her in her wheelchair. It is only when she gets a dose of New Testament thinking from Amy Dorritt that Arthur's mother walks. Dickens was a Unitarian who had a strong belief in the redemptive power of Christ. While he often ridiculed both the Church ("They won't come.") and religious hypocrites (Borriohoola-Gha in Bleak House), it is through Little Dorritt that he presents this redemptive power. Entertainment becomes a treatise on right living.

An astrologer friend of mine recommended this book to me. I have suffered from depression for years and I was glad to see a psychiatrist who has the guts to write about astrology and mental illness for the general public. I have read some of these reviews before I bought the book and they only made me want to read it for myself. This book is a brilliant new approach to mental health and astrology. It is different in that he doesn't use the traditional astrology stuff we all know and love, but aren't we allowed to grow and learn! I called Dr. Gibson and talked to him on the phone. He is approachable, friendly, and smart, real smart. He made me feel better about my illness and he gave me some real insight on depression from a spiritual point of view. You really got to read this book with an open mind, and if you do you will grow a lot in your understanding of how the planets affect our brains...

Thanks Dr. Gibson!!

After reading Dr. Gibson's book, I began to realize that something new and wonderful had been added to the lexicon of astrology and medicine. Seeing that these two sciences are over 2000 years old individually, I was impressed that Gibson was able to accomplish this feat within a short space of just over 200 pages. The basic premise that mankind and indeed all of reality is affected by a hidden order of forces which is only reflected in the movement of the stars and planets is groundbreaking. In testing this theory, Gibson applies a synthesis of astrology and behavioral science into an astonishly clear and eye-opening new technique which utilizes declinations and longitudinal aspects. He calls this technique "Modern Astrology". This work is sure to create quite a stir within both the astrological and medical fields and quite possibly, terms such grand elevation, binary eclipse, Hidek, and planetary index are likely to become very familiar phrases. The book was informative and very thought provoking. The fact that a psychiatrist came up with a way to plumb the depths of a portion of the birth chart which most astrologers eagerly avoid is a little surprising and perhaps somewhat disconcerting. In a word, the book is brilliant. We may never look at major depression, schizophrenia, addictions, anxiety disorders, or attention deficit disorders in the same way again.

This is a wonderful book, based on the principles of the Magi Society (look for their books !). This sounds like (near-)scientific astrology. Far more medical doctors should learn astrology and write their findings down. If they would bring all this knowledge together, well it would be astonishing to see astrology grow in a scientific way. Mitchell Gibson has studied more than 400 charts and has found statistic significant signatures for some sorts of mental illnesses. This is a brilliant work that any serious astrologer should read. I hope that some computerprograms will incorporate his findings in their astrological software to make this knowledge available so that one can do the tedious calculations in a minute.

"Eat or Be Eaten...The truth about our species-the marriage of Darwin and Machiavelli" was a surprisingly unique experience. It caught me off guard. What I thought would turn out to be an evening of pleasant reading, has impacted upon my life in a way that I see nothing as I did prior to reading the book. Even those parts of the book I don't agree with have made me think. Those parts that I do agree I now see from a new perspective. It exposes an entire species (of which I am a member). By the time I finished reading this book I had a clear realization of what I must do - actually hopefully what we all must do - if we are to survive and prosper. We haven't been prospering well for the last 5,000 years or so...wars and genocide dominate our history. PG

This book offers a very new, yet very real, way of thinking and looking at oneself and life... It may appear foreign to many people when they first begin to read, yet the lesson is priceless for everyone... Once a person reads this book, life will never be the same... It helps in the realization that all people possess both positive and negative qualities... And that this is absolutely human and normal... Once the negative qualities are accepted (owned) by the person he/she can begin to integrate both his/her positive and negative parts, and move towards consistency. It also allows the reader to accept human flaws in oneself and in others... It is okay to be less than perfect... It is human to be less than perfect... Learning and accepting these truths are the hard parts... This is a book for the 21st Century... In order for human beings to live full, satisfying, conscious, healthy lives, with healthy relationships, being able to recognize their roles in their successes and failures, this book is an absolute must... It is the first to offer this wonderful new philosophy... A philosophy we all can learn from.

Those interested in sociology and pyschology theories will be very happy. The book has a fluid continuium leading us into the 21st. century and beyond. It helps you look inside yourself and in the end it makes you feel better. As you go along, reading this book, you will re-examine your life and thinking. Don't EXPECT a dry read. I got to meet the authors at a book signing, their talk about the book was riveting and the time just flew by.

This inexpensive volume is a fine edition with very readable text, good notes, and a nice introduction. Coriolanus is not one of Shakespeare's most popular plays, though it has its partisans. As with several of Shakespeare's best plays, it is an attempt to combine an investigation of the nature of power with a psychological portrait. The nature of power or kingship was one of Shakespeare's great themes, featured in some of the great tragedies like MacBeth or Lear, and this theme runs through many of his history plays. In Coriolanus, however, this theme is handled less well. It is interesting to speculate why Shakespeare, who dealt with this theme so well in many plays, doesn't do such a good job in Coriolanus. The action in Coriolanus is set in a republic, not a monarchy. The structure of republican politics is not one Shakespeare would have known well and the problems of politics and authority in a republican are different than those of a monarchy. Particularly for modern audiences, whose intrinsic understanding of republican politics is much greater than Shakespeare's, the clumsy handling of the tension between the aristocratic Coriolanus and the plebes rings false. In addition, the psychological portrait of Coriolanus is not nearly as rich as Shakespeare's analysis of quite a few of his other protagonists. Much of the language in Coriolanus is powerful but it lacks the dramatic movement and insight of his best work.

With its scenes of war and mobs, CORIOLANUS is a work best expirienced on the stage, of course, being one of his least popular plays, it doesn't get produced too often.

The only killing Coriolanus does is on the battle field, but he still comes off as a much less likable character than the murdering Hamlet or Macbeth because Coriolanus spends much of the play berating the citizens of Rome. CORIOLANUS has often been called Shakespeare's manifesto against democracy because of this, but the play is much more complex than that. Yes, it's a play about the fickleness of the masses, but it's also about leaders who don't perform their responsibilities either.

The play is much more political than emotional, and therefore not one I'll return to often, but its political statements are as timely today as they were 400 years ago, if not moreso.

This is Shakespeare's greatest tragedy in my opinion. Everybody talks about Macbeth, Hamlet, King Lear, Othello, and Romeo and Juliet, but Coriolanus for some reason is mostly, and unjustly, ignored. I feel that Coriolanus is the only pure tragedy among Shakespeare's works. Macbeth was a sociopath who brought all his troubles on himself; Hamlet was a confused young man who couldn't make a decision and who waited too long to get the job done; King Lear was an old fool who played games with his daughters and brought most of his problems on himself; Othello could have avoided his problems if he simply sat down and had a real conversation with his wife; and Romeo and Juliet were just a couple of immature kids who simply needed a few hard kicks in their butts. Coriolanus is different. Coriolanus was simply an honest, hard-working soldier who got the job done and told the truth, but was brought down by the guile of his enemies. That, in my opinion, is the greatest tragedy of them all.

It seems that people either love or hate this play. Many consider Coriolanus to be a very unlikable character because he is supposedly arrogant, but I disagree. Coriolanus just worked hard, told the truth, was a straight shooter, and refused to play silly games by telling people what they wanted to hear. I guess I see something different in this play than most critics and readers of Shakespeare.

This is a very well-written book -- for its time. I find that the archaic language make it unsuited for reading to children. (It is filled with "thee", "thou," "raiment," etc.) I had to practically translate the conversations between the characters for my son. For example Achilles says: "Deem'st thou I grieve for ..."

I still read it to my son (with plenty of translation and paraphrasing), and he still thoroughly enjoys the Homeric epic. But I think a more contemporary rendering would have been much better.

I read this book to my Grade 4 class with some initial reservations, thinking it would be beyond them. THEY LOVED IT! A couple of brighter ones were particularly interested in Greek myths before I started, and they helped to spark the whole class, but they all were able to understand it. I checked with the class a number of times to see if they wanted me to continue, and it was always a unanimous YES! Knowing that the Odyssey and the Illiad are considered the greatest stories of all time, and such ancient, ancient stories, really hooked them in them. Padraic Colum's language is sophisticated, and the sentence structure is complex, but it is so lyrical and clean, the kids seemed caught in a spell listening to it. One of the lovely things about reading classics to children, is that they see how imbedded in our culture they are. For instance, they could recognize Homer's influence in cartoons and T.V. shows! When we finished, one of the rich discussion topics was how Homer's and the early Greeks' view of women affects our society today. A number of parents expressed gratitude and awe that I would read such sophisticated literature to young children, and were highly impressed with their children's interest in it.

I first read this book in 1971, when I was in 7th grade. I still think about it. It provided a colorful introduction to the classics. I was not surprised to see that a class of 4th graders loved it.

Well, I can not say that W.D. Howells was another Nathaniel Hawthorne. But what I can say is that his "The Rise of Silas Lapham" is A LOT better than some books that were made famous (probably for political reasons). Do not expect the superb images and construction of Hawthorne. But what we CAN expect is a timeless message about society. At first Silas is a rich money grubbing monster. (Just think of Dickens' Scrooge.) He finds ways to cut his friends out of deals, alienates his family with the want of more money, and even gets his wife upset. Ah, but later things go bad, and he starts losing money. This is when the human side of him begins to show and he becomes a very sympathetic character. In my opinion, to enjoy this even more, you must assume that before the book opens, he WAS a good and decent man. Once he ran into immense wealth, he grew detestable. So while, this is not exactly a masterpiece, the degeneration of Silas and his return to humanity is ample material to carry this book and place it in the American Museum of Literature.

These days Howells is usually overlooked in favor of the more overtly urbane Henry James or the grittier Stephen Crane or Theodore Dreiser. That's a shame, since Howells at his best is a more varied and thought-provoking author than any of them. The Rise of Silas Lapham is Howells at his best. The title is quite ironic, of course, but ultimately spot-on, as Howells' nouveau-riche bumpkin is redeemed only in losing it all. Lapham is keenly drawn, alternately frustrating in his bluster and affected pompousness and endearing in his genuine (if sometimes poorly expressed) love for his family. Other characters are not so fortunate; one of his daughters remains mostly a cipher, and both Mrs. Lapham and Bromfield Corey, the rich scion of society whose favor Lapham so earnestly covets, are dangerously close to stock characters. Howells excels at elaborate descriptive prose focused on intricate detail, sometimes to the point of exhaustion. Some elements of the plot may seem quaint to modern readers, but Howells does not treat them with condescension. The Rise of Silas Lapham is definitely a book of its time. Perhaps it is so rewarding because his time and ours are not necessarily so different as we think.

This is a must read book and provides a glimpse of business morals in the nineteenth century. Read first, Mark Twain's "The Gilded Age" and Charles Dickens' "Martin Chuzzlewit". Silas' 'rise' is not ironic unless accumulation of wealth is your only value. While his monetary assets may shrink, his family 'prospers' in many ways. Clearly, Howells makes the point that honest work can bridge the gap of old rich and new. Commerce is not inherently bad, but it does ask the question, how far should one go in disclosure and protecting others from their potential investment folly.

Tales from Shakespeare was one of the few books that attracted me by its title. I've heard a lot about William Shakespeare, however, I never really got to listen or read his stories. I think they're really special because everyone knows who he is and they say his stories are wonderful.
In this book, there are many, many stories, so I decided to read two of them I was interested in: ¡¥The Tempest¡¦ and ¡¥A Midsummer Night's Dream¡¦. But I'll only tell you about The Tempest.
The Tempest was the first story of the book. It was about a man and his daughter, Miranda, a young girl living on an island with spirits, and no other humans. However, before they decided to side there, there lived before them, a witch name Sycorax. She prisoned all the good spirits, including the leader, Ariel. When Miranda's father decided to side on the island, he defeated Sycorax, and Ariel, as the head of all good spirits promised to serve Miranda's father in any way he can.
As Miranda grew older, she became more beautiful. Her father thought that it was time for her to get married. He sent Ariel to carry Fernando, a prince to marry his daughter. At first, he was so angry at Miranda's father for doing such a thing, but once he saw Miranda, he decided to marry her. As they were getting married, Miranda's father had some revenge on his brother.
What I like about this book is that, Shakespeare has a lot of good ideas.
What I dislike about this book, is that, his stories are too confusing for me to understand. And every time I finish a story, I don't see the point of it.
But I really enjoy reading his stories though.

I read this book as a child; my mother gave it to me and my brother before we went to see the plays. It was an excellent introduction to the plays and to the world of Shakespeare, and helped me understand what I was watching. I also enjoyed reading the stories themselves, and familiarized myself with Shakespeare this way. It made a huge difference, as became quite clear to me when we read Henry IV in ninth grade in school, a play for which I had no Lamb version. I didn't understand that play and took no pleasure in it, whereas I did enjoy much harder plays (e.g., Othello, A Winter's Tale, etc.) that I had the Lambs' help with. Depending on reading level, the Lambs' book would be appropriate for anyone from seven or eight to 13 or 14 years old.

I read this book as a child of eight (back in 1970). It was a gift from my scientist father (an avid Shakespeare fan) as an introduction to Shakespeare.

The book served its purpose very well and I have now given it to my sons aged 7 and 9 who have found it extremely enjoyable. The best part of this book is the way it weaves a rich tapestry in layman's language without the confusing and often ambiguous old English of the original transcripts.

Lamb's Tales makes an excellent primer for those going to see the plays in traditional old English. The book allows all the complex plot elements and characters to be understood and spotted in the live play. The prose format allows the reader to conjure up the images and situations more readily than if struggling with the poetry.

I heartily recommend this book to all ages.