The biography of the Beatles manager which gets to grips with the enigma that was Brian Epstein.
Ray Coleman examines Epstein's life with telling contributions from family and friends and the artistes and business associates who populated his brief life.
Epstein's childhood and adolescence are sensitively probed with Coleman playing sleuth psychologist to good effect.
Interesting observations are made with regard to Brian's family and his peers. The author builds this picture of the young Brian Epstein skilfully.
Of course, the real meat of this story begins with Epstein's own discovery of The Beatles and Coleman doesen't disappoint. Aside from his own reflections of what drove Brian to enter a sphere alien to him, he ellicits some great contributions from the stars in Brian's stable (Cilla Black and Gerry Marsden, particularly). His business partners and rivals also get a good airing and the overall picture of the man and his devotion to his stable of chart-toppers becomes clearer with each page. Indeed, the many poignant examples of Brian's sheer love of The Beatles makes what happened towards the end unbearably painful to read.
As, it seems, with anything to do with The Beatles, there is a definite change of mood from mid 1965 onwards. From here on in melancholia is the watchword. I defy any reader not to feel a huge sadness at the way Brian Epstein's personality/character became imbued with negativity and chaos. The author pulls no punches as he guides us towards the ultimate despair.

I spent more time with reading this book more than my other Beatle books. Mr. Brian Epstein is very well brought out in this book than any other. Things writen in this book will be moved as the author describes almost every detail in the book. It has alot of interesting facts: The funny experiences Brian had in the military, how Brian was an off-and-on homosexual, his mood swings, the time he screamed with the other fans during a Beatle concert, problems he were having with his boyfriend Dizz, the relationship he had with the Beatles, cute pictures of him when he was a baby, and I could go on and on. Just read the book, Beatlefans interested in the Man who made The Beatles will enjoy it.

The most complete collection of this wonderful photographer's work available, this book has unfortunately been printed so poorly that the qualities of most of the photographs is lost. The photos look muddy and suffer from low contrast. The essay, however, is excellent, and worth reading for an introduction to Bravo's life and work. The Aperture books of Bravo's work, while offering far fewer photographs, have much better reproduction.

This small book contains wonderfully printed samples of a great photographer's work. Any selection not done by the artist reflects a certain bias, but this collection has a very neutral one, and the book flows quite nicely. Coleman's essay at the beginning has been printed numerous times and reflects a cultural bias that glorifies Bravo as a "Mexican" photographer rather than as one without the qualifier.

This is a great introduction to Rumi's life and work (and his relationship to Shams). I'd give this to friends who don't yet know his work. It may not please scholarly readers, though, who want a more exact translation, but these 'free' translations are very moving.

This book is an excellent introduction to stories and poetry of Rumi, Shams (and even Rumi's son). The translations are secondary translations i.e. reworkings into free verse older more scholarly and literal translations. As such they make the works more readily accessable to the non-scholar. The stories provide a pleasant mix of relatively rare tales (stories that are quite specifically Sufi) and stories that appear in a variety of guises in different cultures and religions. The poems run from short lyrical pieces to stories in verse form - a nice cross section of Rumi's work. I have read several of Coleman Barks' translations - all enjoyable - and would recommend this book as a nice starting point.

This book was really well researched and presented. I did not find it particularly scary, only interesting. A lot of the information was presented in historical perspective and then "oh by the way, there may be a ghost there now". Being from the North I found the terminology and quaint sayings peppered thoughout the book a little irritating. So if you are looking for some Tennessee history with a dash of legend and ghost stories then this book might be for you. Otherwise, read Haunted Homeland.

I really enjoyed this book. Being from Tennessee I have been to many of the places in the book inluding Adams Tennessee home of the Bell Witch. This was a well researched and facinating book. I would recommend this book to any one interested in this subject.

"And then you must remember that most readers don't really read...We all read too much nowadays to be able to read properly. We read with the eyes alone, not with the imagination." Thus speaks Mr. Cardan, a character in Aldous Huxley's "Those Barren Leaves," and all I can say in reply is, "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." Wanting to rush into the plot, I found myself annoyed with Huxley's slow, careful unfolding of the characters--the upper-class English guests at the Tuscan castle of the pretentious, amorous Mrs. Aldwinkle--and their long-winded conversations about Balzac and Diderot. I started to agree with Elizabeth Bowen's comment that Huxley was "the stupid person's idea of the clever person." After I had slowed down, however, and started to really read Huxley's painstaking dialogue and careful descriptions of the Italian countryside, I began to appreciate his brilliant evisceration of the motley crew around the impossible Mrs. Aldwinkle: Mr. Cardan, the Epicurean philosopher; Calamy, the amorist who is beginning to wonder if there is more to life than bedding women; Mary Thriplow, the novelist who never stops writing, even when making love; Chelifer, the disillusioned poet; and the hapless Grace Elver, a sort of female Forrest Gump without Forrest's lucky star. This wickedly funny yet meditative book repays the work of thoughtful readers, it has much to say about what is really important in life, and how expert people are at self-delusion. People who liked "My Dinner with Andre" or Robertson Davies' Cornish Trilogy should like "Those Barren Leaves."

A hard-to-find book--I came across it as a yellowed old paperback at a rummage sale, and I'm glad I did. Full of characters you're ready to hate, you end up loving nearly every one. Extraordinarily beautiful language, the writing is the cream of the crop. Not much of a plot, to be sure, as it is filled mostly with conversation that asks all of life's profoundest questions. He doesn't answer all the questions--no one can!--but gives you ample food for thought. The book is set in Italy after WWI, and abounds in beautiful scenery. Read it when you're relaxed and have time to chew on it.

And she says:

This is a good visual reference book, especially if you are a collector of dolls 100 years old (and older). The beautiful wood dolls on page 10 are from the late 1600's - I think a museum would have something like that, but not me. The book is divided into 11 chapters, based on the material the doll is made of, or unusual subject matter such as who they depict. The funniest page is called Patriotic Character Dolls, with all the photos depicting Political Figures (men) from 1890-1918.

The text is somewhat sparse, but the photos are stunning. It seems that every page has color photos on it, making this a good buy for an "art book". As an amateur collector, I do not feel that the information in the book is adequate for me to identify a valuable antique from a reproduction.

There are interesting suggestions for restoration, so this book would be a good addition to a museum curator's reference library if your museum has old dolls to display.

This book is for adults, and its reading level is too advanced for children under 12.

Doll collectors and fans will find Caroline Goodfellow's Ultimate Doll Book to be a fine, colorful guide showcasing more than 400 dolls ranging from 18th century simple peg woodens, to 19th century French fashion dolls, down through today's Barbie & Ken. Chapters are packed with color images and even more important, provide portraits of the dolls clothed and unclothed along with identification tips based on structural details. From rag dolls to baby dolls and national dolls, this is packed with insights.

In this edition of Virgil's "Eclogues," Guy Lee provides a lively verse translation with a parallel of the original Latin text. Preceding the text, Lee gives a detailed and lengthy introduction, with summaries before each of Virgils' ten eclogues. Notes to the text are furnished in the back, which throw further light upon the poems; their use is highly suggested. The poems themselves are Virgils' first collection, probably published around 38-39 BC. These poems were originally published under the name bucolica (cowherd-songs) but were eventually titled ecolgae (selections) in later English editions. For those who have only read the "Aenied," these pastoral poems will come as a surprise, since the soft devotion to country living and house hold gods praised in the "Eclogues" differs greatly from the proud and martial spirit which underlies his greatest work, the "Aenied." Virgil's diversity as a poet shines through in this work; he mixes the Greek with the Roman and contrasts the ancient with the contemporary and creates a rich blend of sophisticated poetry. These poems are enjoyable and warm--but sometimes obscure if read too quickly--and they should be read by anyone in to classical literature.

This translation by Dryden is hard to come by. But it is worth it!
Nabokov called Virgil's poetry "insipid," the people in the
circus of Naples, who rose to their feet for a standing ovation,
didn't think so. Perhaps the crowds merely empathized with
Virgil's awkward person, his hacking cough, the sly smirk under a
peasant's heavy brow, his rustic accent. Maybe they felt, that he
was one of their own. Little does his early work indicate to which
length of seemingly servile adulation Virgil eventually would have to
go. Later ages would accuse Virgil of a subservient mentality -
unjustly perhaps.

The Roman rich were very rich, the Roman
poor very poor; in fact poverty decorated the mantelpieces of the
upper crust - quite literally: we have unearthed many statuettes of
that period. They portray low life figures in every realistic detail,
warts and all - feisty slave girls, old fishmongers, a toothless
washerwomen dozing off her liquor. Apparently such decorations became
extremely popular items for a wealthy house. The thinly spread
middle-class was trapped in a social seesaw situation and the
institution of slavery would make it even more difficult to bridge the
widening gulf between the classes.

In terms of income,
Virgil came from a rural middle-class background; on her way to the
fields, his mother had given birth in the ditches. His parent's
single-minded aim, which is so typical for people of the struggling
middle-class, was to provide their son with the best education money
could buy, in order to make it easier for him to climb the social
ladder. There was an encouraging example: from a small town a
banker's son had ascended to the throne of an empire. But times
could be tough. Virgil himself had been evicted from his father's
farm because the state confiscated land to provide for the army's
veterans.

When a modern reader thinks of idyllic poetry he
automatically associates something nostalgic and sentimental with it,
a hypocritical invocation of good old times and conservative
values. But Virgil had it not in him to be sentimental. So in his very
first poem Virgil introduces an evicted farmer who lost his homestead
to a retired war-veteran. He has a last afternoon to visit his former
neighbor and friend, they talk and there is no happy ending to this
story: all what is left is a last look at the smoking chimneys of
distant cottage-roofs which slowly drown in the lengthening
shadows. And this is sheer magic. This last image suggests something
enduring. Farmers pass, but farming will be here for ever; suddenly
something eternal, a platonic archetype seems to cast light onto the
fragility of our world. It doesn't make it any easier for the
dispossessed emigrant, but the world is essentially good.


Between a couple of cuter pieces about love among and between the
sexes, especially 3 poems stand out. The enigmatic 4th Eclogue on the
birth of his patron's child would earn Virgil the status of a
prophet. In the middle ages some considered him to be a saint (others
a sorcerer). Eclogue 6 and 10 celebrate important friendships in
Virgil's life, but curiously mix the jocular with the
tragic. Especially for the 10th it would be important to know when
exactly it was written, because the fate of his friend Gallus became a
turning point in Virgil's work.

The "Eclogues"
are the only poems in Virgil's work, which refer to slaves as
leading characters. Virgil's complete silence on the subject in
his mature work, especially the "Georgics" which seem
especially suited to speak of forced labor, certainly means something,
but we don't know exactly what. Had he learned to resent the
institution, and if yes on what grounds? Did he see it economically
cutting into the franchise of the middle-class? Had he humanitarian
reservations? Or had it become one of the unmentionables in polite
society? We don't know. But we do know, there was no such thing as
a lobby for the abolition of slavery. The days of Spartacus had passed
for good.

This book is a collection of technical terms, mainly to allow English-speaking instructors to teach deaf pupils. It is conveniently organized into various topics (English/literature, Social Studies, Science, Math, Health, Education, Non-Academics/vocational, and General Vocabulary). It might be less useful in non-educational situations, as many of the signs are "initialized," or variations of more standard signs that have been made with an alphabet handshape to indicate a specific English word. Many deaf people are not English-oriented and would not necessarily be familiar with these signs.

This book is actually two: 1979's "Mad Dog Black Lady" and the 1990 "African Sleeping Sickness". Both are incredibly powerful collections of poetry (with some stories), and the sheer volume of work contained here (328 pgs, with almost a poem for every 2 on average) is almost enough to make you OD on poetry. The work is strong stuff, with stories of love, sex and danger throughout, and Coleman's voice is so hardcore compelling you don't know if you should read the bok or run from it.

Captures the biting energy of her short stories in poetic form. Wow.

I like this little book ... and if you're looking for some light reading that will help you gain insight into the beliefs of Catholics, this volume is for you. The Coleman family has done a good job of outlining the basics of the faith while avoiding the tendency toward "Catholic fundamentalism" that is so pervasive today. The answers in this booklet are laid out so as to be readable and well-organized. The authors wisely avoid divisive issues, but they do a good job introducing non-doctrinal issues that are being discussed in the church today (such as gospel authorship and mandatory celibacy for priests). Although there are a couple of places in the book where nuance might be helpful, one must remember that this volume is offered as a simple expression of the basics of the Roman Catholic faith. In that sense, the authors have done a nice job and I recommend this volume to those who are looking for such an introduction.